


First & Everlasting Love

by BradyGirl_12



Category: Batman Begins (2005), DCU, DCU (Movies), Dark Knight (2008), Smallville
Genre: Angst, Autumn, Big Bang Challenge, Canon Het Relationship, Challenge Response, Challenges, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Het, Het and Slash, M/M, Male Slash, Mystery, Slash, Vacation, World's Finest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An exhausted Clark and Bruce vacation in Smallville, where Clark’s sudden obsession over memories of his first love, Lex, causes insecurities to rise in Bruce. Meanwhile, an old enemy is preparing the way for a re-appearance for a final confrontation with the World’s Finest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Weary Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: (Ch. 16: Violence)  
> Spoilers: None  
> Beta: The fantastic [Me_Ya_Ri](me-ya-ri.livejournal.com)! :)  
> Artist: The marvelous [Ctbn60](ctbn60.livejournal.com)! :) Art can be found here on [LJ](http://ctbn60.livejournal.com/374157.html) and [A03](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1018117)  
> Original LJ Dates Of Completion: September 11-October 19, 2011  
> Original LJ Date Of Posting: October 25, 2013  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC and Warner Brothers do, more’s the pity.  
> Original LJ Word Count: 23,277  
> Feedback welcome and appreciated.  
> Author's Note: Originally written for [Tmelange's](tmelange.livejournal.com) proposed _A Dark Knight In Smallville_ fanzine.  
>  All chapters can be found [here.](http://bradygirl-12.livejournal.com/13235.html)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exhausted Batman makes a miscalculation.

[](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Everlasting_zpsfccd0280.jpg.html)

_When you’re all awhirl,_  
 _And life’s all aswirl,_  
 _Time to rest,_  
 _Nature knows best._

  


**Etta Chocolate**  
 **"Life Is Like**  
 **A Box Of Chocolates"**  
 **1941 C.E.**

The Batman perched on the gargoyle of the Braddock Building, the old structure still as sturdy as it had been built in 1846. He liked the solid stone and brick beneath his boots. Solid like Gotham, which pleased him as only a native-born Gothamite would understand.

Patrolling his city grounded him, because all too often lately he felt as if he was being run ragged between here and the Watchtower. If it wasn’t monitor duty, it was an intense, time-consuming mission, sometimes off-world, and he barely had time to turn around, much less spend any significant time with Clark.

He smiled at the thought of his lover. They were two years into their relationship, and Batman was amazed that Superman was still sticking around.

 _He could have anyone. He and Ollie have great chemistry, and I know his history with Lana and Lois. Why is he sticking with a grumpy ol’ Bat?_

His own love life before Clark was fairly barren. Rachel had been a true romance, but she had been the only one. He had enjoyed a casual off-and-on relationship with his old friend Lex Luthor during their college days, but that had been two rich kids coming together, understanding each other in ways no one else could rather than a bone-deep love.

Batman always felt sadness when thinking about Lex. He was a shell of his former self, and was insane, in the Dark Knight’s opinion. Lex had lost his memory because of the actions of his now-deceased half-sister Tess, which kept Clark’s secret identity safe, but Batman knew his old friend well. Lex was brilliant and a major threat, especially to Clark. 

Batman wrapped his cape tighter around himself as he jumped to the rooftop, staggering slightly. He was bone-tired. Sleep was a precious commodity which had eluded him for the past month on a distressingly-frequent basis.

The wind was picking up, blowing in a strong gust as the silken folds of his cape escaped his gloved fingers, whipping out behind him as he spotted activity in the street below. He took out his grapple gun and shot out a decel line, his cape fanning out in a black backdrop as he flew down as gracefully as his namesake. He kept track of the potential mugger as the thug stalked his oblivious prey. Batman’s heart pounded as adrenaline rushed through his veins. 

Unfortunately, he had misjudged his descent angle and crashed into the wall, pain slicing through his right arm and leg as he tumbled to the ground, unable to break his fall. Stunned, he lay crumpled in the dirty alley, the wind howling like a demented banshee.


	2. Poor Little Rich Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Clark know what’s good for Bruce.

  
_"Born with a silver spoon,_   
_He could have had the moon,_   
_But when he did the swoon,_   
_He sang a different tune."_   


  


**Betty Bangle**  
 **"Silver Spoon"  
 **RCA Victor Records**  
 **1936 C.E.****

“Alfred!”

Bruce stewed as he glared at the little silver handbell on the nightstand. He simply refused to use the silly thing to summon his butler. It was the epitome of clichéd rich brat, in his opinion. Instead, he bellowed again.

“Master Wayne, really. Were you brought up in a fishmonger’s house?” The gray-haired butler shook his head as he entered the master bedroom.

“Alfred, I need to get down to the Cave.”

“I should say not. You will remain in that bed, sir, and the farthest you shall travel is to the bathroom.”

Bruce frowned. “I need to do some research.”

“I shall bring you your laptop.”

“I need the computer down there.”

“Master Wayne, if you attempt to get out of that bed I shall call Master Kent and have him sit on you if necessary.”

Bruce almost laughed. “You think you’ve got me right where you want me?”

“Most assuredly, sir.”

Bruce rested his head back against the headboard. “I’m bored, Alfred.”

“No doubt, but you must stay off that leg for the foreseeable future.”

Bruce grimaced. He had a hairline fracture in his fibula, his thigh a mass of bruises. He had quite a rainbow pattern of green, yellow, and purple under his pajamas.

“What would you like for lunch, sir?”

Bruce let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, I don’t know. Surprise me.”

“You are quite the brat, sir.”

“Better get used to it.”

“I have been for quite some years now.”

Bruce smiled as Alfred left the room.

His smile faded as he thought of the mistake that had landed him in this bed.

Stupid mistake. How could I have misjudged that angle so badly? He rubbed his face. I was lucky that mugger didn’t turn back and try and become a Big Name by finishing off the Batman. Man, I was incredibly lucky.

But of course, that was risk he took working alone. When he was hurt or in a jam, he only had himself to rely on.

_Unless Clark is with me._

Lately, however, they barely had time to say hello to each other, much less work together. And their love lives? He couldn’t even remember the last time they had made love, and he was supposed to have a good memory!

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed just as the window opened and a _whoosh!_ of cool air settled gently around him. 

“Hello, Clark.”

“Hello, Bruce.”

Bruce could hear the rustle of silk and felt warm lips pressed against his. He cupped Clark’s head and intensified the kiss.

When they finally broke apart, Clark said, “Whoa, should you be getting all hot-and-bothered right now?”

“I’m bored,” Bruce whined. “Alfred won’t let me down in the Cave.”

“With good reason, you idiot.”

Bruce opened his eyes and saw Superman in all his glory, blue green eyes sparkling as he gazed down upon his mortal lover. Very mortal in this case, he thought grumpily.

“It’s not idiotic to be bored.”

“No, but it is idiotic to want to trek down to that damp Cave with a bum leg and broken wrist.” 

Bruce huffed. “My hand is fine.”

“Right, a broken wrist is fine.”

Bruce glared at his cast. Unfortunately, it was his right wrist, so even feeding himself was problematic, though he managed.

Clark sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at his lover. “You’re getting a vacation.”

“I don’t want a vacation.”

“Tough, you’re getting one, anyway.”

“Why are you and Alfred ganging up on me?”

“Because you deserve it, you stubborn idiot.”

“Again with the idiot! Watch it, Kent.”

Clark smiled. “I’m happy to watch you.” He drew Bruce into a kiss, Bruce enthusiastically responding.

“You are eager,” Clark said with laugh once the kiss was broken.

“For you? Always.”

Clark ducked his head shyly, warming Bruce’s heart. He still could not believe his good fortune that this incredible man loved him.

Clark looked up at him and said, “I’m bringing you home.”

“I thought this was your home,” Bruce said lightly.

“You know what I mean.”

“Smallville?” At Clark’s nod, Bruce protested, “I can recuperate here.”

“But you won’t relax.”

“Of course I will. This is home.”

“With the Batcave and all the other craziness around here.”

“Listen, Clark…"

“You like it there.” Clark’s smile was charming. “It’s peaceful and quiet. You can draw strength there.”

Bruce was about to object again when he noticed the strain around Clark’s eyes. His lover could always recuperate physically, but mentally was another story. Clark had been on the go as much as he had been and would be the one to draw strength from the soil of the Kent Farm, just as he did from the Manor. 

“All right.”

Clark’s smile grew brighter. “You won’t fight me?”

”Not much.”

The Kryptonian laughed delightedly and drew Bruce into an embrace.

Maybe recuperating in Smallville would be just what they needed.


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce arrive in Smallville.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_2_zpsdd8a5989.jpg.html)

  
_Drawing strength_   
_From where we came,_   
_Gives us strength_   
_For where we’re going._   


  


**Alex Jones**  
 **"Homebound"  
 **1986 C.E.****

Clark already looked as if he was relaxed as he drove to Smallville with Bruce next to him in the passenger seat. Alfred was taking some well-deserved time off to visit family in England, so Clark was playing chauffeur.

The rental car was modest but the ride was smooth, Clark able to navigate the bumpy country roads with skill. Smallville’s tiny airport had handled the Wayne Enterprises private plane, accustomed to accommodating LutherCorp aircraft years ago.

The scenery never changed, Bruce thought wryly. Acres and acres of corn stretched as far as the eye could see. The trees were starting to turn colors as September was on the calendar.

Clark whistled a jaunty tune, and Bruce was glad that his lover was so happy. Short of a galactic invasion, Clark would be on vacation, too. Kara had returned from the 31st Century and had established herself as Supergirl, so she would be taking care of Metropolis. Ollie had volunteered to help out his old friend and patrol as Batman…

& & & & & &

_“What, you don’t think I can be the Dark Knight?”_

_Ollie was sitting on the edge of Bruce’s bed. Bruce laughed while Ollie pouted._

_“Ollie, you are an exemplary Emerald Archer. A Dark Knight? I don’t know about that.”_

_Ollie ran a hand through his spiky blond hair. “Bet Chloe thinks I can do it.”_

_“She’s your wife.”_

_“Listen, if you know marriage like I do, you know you’re less likely to get a thumbs-up from your spouse.”_

_Bruce smirked. “Sorry, never been married.”_

_“What do you call what you and the Big Blue Boy Scout are all about?”_

_Bruce frowned. “We’re not married.”_

_“I know you haven’t said ‘I do’, but you’re married, trust me.”_

_“I don’t buy it.”_

_“Yeah?” Ollie crossed his arms, brown eyes amused. “Did Clark move in here?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Did he bring you home to Mother?”_

_“Yes, but…”_

_“Does Alfred consider him a second son?”_

_“You’re insufferable.”_

_“Face it, Bruce, all you’re missing is the ring.” Ollie waggled his finger, his gold wedding ring glinting in the light._

& & & & & &

They had reached the entrance to the farm, the wooden sign with the name ‘Kent’ carved into it atop the frame at the bottom of the driveway. Clark turned the Ford into the driveway, his eyes alight with anticipation.

Bruce had to admit that the yellow, two-story clapboard house was charming. Trimmed in white, there was a porch with a swing and two rocking chairs, and windowboxes with red and pink geraniums. A wreath made from brambles and red berries hung on the front door, and a black cat with piercing yellow eyes sunned itself on the porch, tail swishing back-and-forth. Several feet away the barn stood sturdy though weatherbeaten, its red paint faded.

Clark parked the car close to the house and shut off the engine. “Let’s get you inside first and then I’ll bring in the luggage.”

Bruce got out of the car, using crutches. The hairline crack was technically a broken leg, he supposed, but thankfully did not require a cast. Unfortunately, his wrist did, making it almost impossible to use the crutches with ease. 

“Bruce…”

”I will not be carried like a bride over the threshold, Clark.”

“Spoilsport.” Clark smiled as he put a hand under Bruce’s right elbow and took away one crutch. “Use the other crutch and I’ll balance you.” 

Bruce grumbled but followed Clark’s instructions. They navigated the short steps, and Bruce leaned against the porch railing while Clark unlocked the door.

“You lock your doors in Smallville?” Bruce teased.

“We didn’t when I was growing up.” Clark smiled at the cat, who looked at him coolly. “Hi, Midnight.” The cat yawned.

Bruce was still wrapping his mind around the fact that Clark had not been joking about not locking the doors when his companion helped him inside.

He remembered the first time that Clark had brought him home…

& & & & & &

_“Welcome, Bruce.” Martha Kent smiled._

_“Hello, Mrs. Kent.”_

_“Martha, please.”_

_“All right, Martha.”_

_The trim red-haired woman was warmth itself as she stood in the middle of the living room in a modest Kelly-green sweater and matching pants. The tantalizing aroma of pumpkin bread baking in the oven made his mouth water._

_Clark brought in the luggage. “Glad you got away from D.C. for the weekend, Mom.”_

_“They tried to keep me there, but I dazzled them with my wit and wrapped things up early.”_

_“Does anything get wrapped up early in Washington?”_

_She laughed. “It’s a miracle, isn’t it?”_

_While mother and son bantered, Bruce looked around, noticing the slightly shabby but comfortable furniture, the red-yellow-and-blue hooked rug, the walls hung with pleasant landscape paintings and a shelf containing souvenirs. Closer inspection revealed a tiny dome and pylon paperweight from the 1939 World’s Fair, a small gold statuette of _The Daily Planet_ , a plate from the Grand Canyon and one from Mount Rushmore, and another paperweight featuring Cinderella’s castle at Disney World. _

_“Let’s get you upstairs, Bruce,” Clark said._

_“Yes, you must be tired.” Martha put a hand on his arm. “Get some rest, and supper will be in a few hours.” She laughed. “We eat early around here. Washington hasn’t cured me of that habit, I’m afraid.”_

_“C’mon, Bruce.”_

& & & & & &

“Bruce?”

”Hmm?”

“You okay?” 

Bruce looked into the concerned face of his lover. “Yeah, just remembering my first time here. Your mother was here.”

“Yes, she was.”

“Will she be coming home this weekend?”

“No, she’s got an important party she has to attend.”

“More important than us?” Bruce pouted.

“It’s a State Dinner at the White House.”

“Oh.”

Clark laughed as he helped Bruce up the stairs. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep downstairs?”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch while you’re upstairs.”

“All right, Your Majesty.”

Bruce smirked as he hobbled along, Clark taking most of his weight. They reached the bedroom and Bruce gratefully sank down onto the bed.

“I know it’s not the size of that princely bed of yours at the Manor, but it’s comfy.”

Bruce airily waved his hand. “Go get my matched luggage, peasant.”

Clark grinned. “Yes, my Prince.”

Bruce chuckled as he flopped back onto the bed, the spread warm and scratchy against his skin.

Clark’s room never changed. The handmade quilt by Martha lay at the foot of the bed, the red-yellow-and-blue color scheme amusing him. There was a blue-and-yellow hooked rug on the hardwood floor, made by Clark’s paternal grandmother, and pennants on the walls for the _Smallville Crows_ and _Metropolis Sharks_. A handmade wooden bookcase in the corner was crammed with books and the dresser was made of maplewood, like the four-poster bed. There was a windowseat by the window, more books in the small cupboard underneath.

The room was warm and modest, like Clark himself. It was as different from the room that he had grown up in as you could get.

Worry prickled his thoughts. They were so different, their childhoods worlds apart. Clark liked the simple things while Bruce was accustomed to the luxurious. Often their methods of crimefighting clashed. He and Clark were literally like Night and Day.

_Can we survive like that? Why would Clark want to stick with a poor little rich kid? Especially one with so many issues that running around dressed like a giant bat is the least of my worries._

Clark appeared in the doorway, easily carrying all of their luggage.

_He’s not even winded, damn him._

Feeling petulant, Bruce crossed his arms, mindful of his cast. Soft cast or not, it was a pain to wear.

Clark started unpacking, putting their clothes away in the closet and dresser drawers. Bruce sat up and watched the process, his leg stiff after the long drive from the airport. He rubbed his thigh, careful not to touch the area with the fracture. Hairline or not, it could still hurt.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to make do with my cooking for our vacation.” Clark opened another drawer.

“Better than mine.”

Clark laughed. “That’s for sure! You’re great with cooking up smoke bombs, but a steak or fish? Ouch!” 

Bruce smirked. One thing about being a hazard in the kitchen, you were never expected to cook.

“What would you like for supper?”

“What have you got?”

“I’ll see what Chloe and Ollie left in the fridge.”

“Does it work out, having them stay here when they’re in town?”

“Sure. Chloe’s family home was sold years ago, and while they’ve got the penthouse in Metropolis, they’d have to rent here, and there’s not much to rent around town or in the outlying areas. I figure having them use the house when they’re in town helps keep the place up-to-date.”

“Martha plans to come back here after she retires, right?”

“Of course. This is our home.” Clark shut the drawer and zipped up the suitcases, putting them way in the closet. “I mistakenly thought long ago that to meet my destiny as Superman, I had to sell the farm, but luckily cooler heads prevailed.” Clark shook his head. “Chalk it up to temporary insanity. Selling this place would be like selling Wayne Manor.”

“I once said I wanted to burn the Manor down.”

Surprised, Clark’s eyes widened. He remained quiet, waiting for Bruce to continue.

“It was during my Angry Young Man phase, back when I was acting up so much at Princeton, they kicked me out.” Bruce smiled ruefully. “Imagine the irony when Ra’s really did burn it down.” 

Clark put a hand on Bruce’s good leg and gently rubbed it. “I guess it’s just youthful ignorance. This farm and the Manor are too much a part of us to ever really let them go.”

Bruce smiled and put his hand over Clark’s, leaning forward to kiss him. When they parted, Bruce said, “I’d like chicken if you’ve got it.”

“Okay.”

Clark went downstairs and Bruce lay back down, needing to sleep.


	4. Beef Stew And Garlic Bread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce remembers a conversation with Martha.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_2_zpsdd8a5989.jpg.html)

  
_"Bubbling, troubling,_   
_When you’re down,_   
_And feelin’ blue,_   
_Have yourself_   
_Some beef stew."_   


  
****

**Sal Minelli**  
 **"Beef Stew"**  
 **RCA Records**  
 **1961 C.E.**

Bruce slept for the remainder of the afternoon, his exhausted body demanding rest. When he finally awoke, the light streaming in through the bedroom window indicated late afternoon. He listened to the sounds of birds and squirrels outside but could not hear Clark moving around downstairs. 

Bruce allowed himself to absorb the peace of the house for about ten minutes, then levered himself off the bed, managing to make it down the hall to the bathroom.

Once he was finished there, he made his way back, bypassing the bedroom for the stairs. Cursing his leg injury, he was exhausted by the time he reached the foot of the stairs.

He was a wreck: damaged thigh, broken wrist and sprained ankle, none of which allowed him to perform ninja-like Bat-tricks. Put all together, he would be out of commission for at least another month.

He headed for the kitchen, his stomach rumbling. He found it empty, but there was a pot of something that smelled delicious simmering on the stove, and a quick peek inside the oven showed slices of garlic bread baking. 

He looked into the pot, pleased to see carrots, onions, celery, and beef bubbling in the stock. His stomach growled again.

The kitchen walls were painted sunny yellow, and hanging plants spilled out over their pots, glossy green leaves climbing along the windowsill. A suncatcher in the shape of a sun sparkled in the window over the sink. The table and chairs were highly-polished wood, a yellow tablecloth set with a cobalt-blue vase of sunflowers and two place settings. The refrigerator held a collection of magnets, and he smiled at the Super and Bat magnets lined up next to each other.

He remembered his first time in this kitchen…

& & & & & &

_“I hope you like fried chicken, Bruce,” said Martha as he entered the bright kitchen._

_“I like it fine.”_

_“Good. We don’t have it often because grilled or baked is better for you, but it’s an old family recipe. Secret herbs and spices.” She winked._

_Bruce laughed. “Can I help?”_

_“You can peel up the potatoes and then I’ll mash them up.”_

_“Okay.”_

_As Martha rolled the chicken legs and breasts in her own breaded mixture, Bruce used a paring knife to start peeling the big potatoes._

_“This is a wonderful place you have here.”_

_“Thank you. It’s been in Jonathan’s family for generations.”_

_“I understand heritage.”_

_“Yes, I hear that Wayne Manor has been in your family for centuries.”_

_“Yes,” Bruce answered proudly._

_“It’s a heavy responsibility, these family legacies.”_

_“Pretty much.” Bruce’s deft fingers quickly finished peeling one potato and started on the next. “What was it like to raise a super-powered boy here on the farm?”_

_“Oh, Clark’s childhood was pretty normal. His powers really didn’t manifest until his adolescence, though he was stronger than average and could certainly jump higher than normal, but he didn’t have to worry about heat vision or anything like that.”_

_“Must have been easy on you.”_

_“Heavens, yes! Can you imagine trying to catch a superbaby flying around the house?”_

_They both laughed, and Martha placed the last piece of chicken in the pan and put it in the oven. She closed the door and turned it on, taking out fresh stringbeans and putting them in a smaller pot._

_“Clark had to adjust to learning that he was an alien, of course, once he became a teenager.”_

_“Ouch. Worse possible time.”_

_Martha smiled. “Tell me about it.” She sighed. “Despite their archenemy relationship today, Lex Luthor was a godsend in those early days. He was a true friend, just what Clark needed at the time.” She smiled. “Clark never forgets a friend.”_

_Bruce paused in the act of peeling. “Yes, Ollie’s mentioned their friendship. Chloe, too.”_

_Martha stirred the beans and went to the refrigerator, taking out the butter dish. “I know it’s hard to believe, but Lex wasn’t like he is now.”_

_“No, I believe it.”_

_She put the dish on the counter. “That’s generous of you.”_

_“I knew Lex before he came to Smallville.” At her surprised expression he said, “I went to school with Lex.”_

_“Ah.” Martha looked at Bruce “He was probably quite different form what we knew.”_

_“Pretty much.” Bruce kept peeling. “He was mocking, sarcastic and high-handed, but a lot of it was a defense against a terrible childhood.”_

_“Yes, I know,” Martha murmured._

_“He was a good friend. We understood each other.”_

_Martha took the peeled potatoes and began mashing them in a bowl. “I’m glad. I always felt that Lex was more complex than people thought, and not necessarily destined to be a Luthor.”_

_“So what happened?”_

_She sighed. “I’m not sure. I don’t think he’s evil.”_

_“He’s tried to hurt Clark.”_

_She looked at him directly. “I think he’s insane.”_

_Clark came in from the barn before Bruce could respond._

& & & & & &

“Bruce?”

“Hmm?”

“You really _are_ daydreaming today, aren’t you?”

Bruce looked around to see a fondly-smiling Clark standing behind him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Daydreaming can be relaxing, and that’s why you’re here, right? To relax.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bruce smiled. “Dinner smells delicious.”

“Thanks. I put some soup together with what I could find in the fridge. I’ll have to make a run to town tomorrow to stock up, but this’ll do for tonight.”

“More than do.” Bruce took a seat at the table. “So what do we do tonight? Quilting bee or talk about the latest crop prices?”

“Don’t be a city snob.” Clark’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. He had grown so accustomed to wearing them that he often left them on even when he was only with people who knew his secret identity. He liked Clark in glasses. He looked cute. “Get ready for a fine repast.” 

Clark hummed as he stirred the soup, tasting it and declaring it ready. He ladled out two bowls and took out the garlic bread, the smell mingling with that of the soup. Bruce’s mouth watered.

“Dig in.” Clark sat down, breaking a piece off his slice of garlic bread.

“Mmm, this is really good, Clark.”

“Thanks. I’m no Alfred or Mom, but I can throw together a meal when I have to.”

“I approve of your ‘throwing together’.” Bruce avidly ate the soup, realizing how ravenous he was. “I suppose there’s pie for dessert?”

Clark grinned. “There’s some apple pie left over. Maybe I should try baking one tomorrow.”

“Let’s not get carried away.”

Clark laughed and broke off another piece of bread.

Bruce knew this vacation was good for Clark. He had seen the weariness in his lover’s eyes for the past month, sheer exhaustion in his body language. Even a Superman could get tired, and Clark had been going as non-stop as Bruce.

He hoped that any alien invasions would wait until after their vacation.


	5. Top Hats And Race Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce enjoy a peaceful evening together.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_2_zpsdd8a5989.jpg.html)

  
_The wind whispers_   
_Through the trees_   
_As fireflies dance_   
_And stars twinkle_   
_In the light_   
_Of a smiling moon._   


  


**Cecilia Simon**  
 **"Peaceful Evening"**  
 **1996 C.E.**

The light was growing more mellow, and Bruce felt the same. Maybe it had been the beef vegetable stew or maybe just sitting in that cheerful kitchen with Clark, but Bruce was feeling very domestic. Alfred would approve.

After delicious slices of apple pie, Clark cleaned up and washed the dishes while Bruce sipped coffee at the table. He watched Clark perform his task efficiently, the big hands capable of smashing mountains handling delicate china with ease.

The sunlight limned his lover’s highlighting shimmering black hair and his light-blue T-shirt and jeans. He looked ethereal in the soft golden light, hazy and soft-lensed. Bruce sipped his coffee but watched the ripple of light play over the plants and gleaming sink.

The best part of this Impressionist painting was Clark. Sun-bronzed skin glowed in the light, his well-sculpted muscles shown off to perfection by the lack of long sleeves. The cotton fabric clung to broad shoulders and strong back, Bruce’s eyes traveling to the perfect buttocks encased in faded denim. His cock twitched.

“I figure we’ll need at least a week’s groceries, and once those run out I can run in for more.” Clark placed a bowl on the drainboard. “Mom’s got preserves down in the root cellar, so we can use some of those.”

“Uh huh.”

“Maybe we could take a run to the diner if you feel up to it.”

“Mmm.”

“I’ll probably do an inspection of the fields. We sharecrop with the neighbors, so the farm is still productive and tended to.”

“That’s smart. It’d be a shame to let the land lie fallow.”

“It would be a travesty.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Clark washed the last utensil and picked up the dishcloth. “Generations of Kents have worked this land. If it wasn’t for my powers, I might never had left here.”

Startled, Bruce asked, “Are you sure about that? What about _The Daily Planet?”_

“Well, that’s the $64,000 question. Would I be happy to just write for _The Smallville Gazette_ while being a farmer, or would I still go off to the big city to make my fortune?” Clark picked up a dish to wipe and looked out at the fields in the rays of the setting sun. “I have to write. It’s a part of me, a passion that I’ve always had.” 

“You’re good at it.”

“Thanks.” Clark smiled. “Mom and Dad told me about my notebooks always left around the house, filled with my scribblings. If I don’t write something every day, I feel like I’m going to bust."

“It’s a passion of yours.”

Clark wiped the plate, setting it in the cabinet. “I guess you’re right.” He chuckled. “Guess I’m a born writer.”

“All of us have a special talent.”

Clark finished the dishes and put them away, hanging the dishtowel up on the rack. 

“Want to go outside for some fresh air?” 

“What, that good ol’ country air? I’m not sure my Gotham lungs can take it.”

Clark smirked and tossed Bruce his jacket. “Gets a little cold out there.” Clark put on his red jacket, then helped his lover out to the porch.

Bruce sat on the swing while Clark leaned against the railing, listening to the crickets as a slight breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees. The moon was bright, illuminating the yard as Midnight yawned and padded down the steps, his tail switching.

“It really is peaceful here,” Bruce murmured.

Clark sat on the railing, one leg swinging back-and-forth. “It is.” He smiled. “No sound of the ocean, though.”

Bruce chuckled. “No, just a lot of crickets.”

“And fireflies.” Clark pointed at a display winking several feet away. They watched the intricate dance, a strong gust of wind scattering the fireflies.

“We’d better go in. It’s getting pretty cold,” Clark said.

Bruce did not argue, feeling the chill in his bones.

Inside, Clark started a fire in the hearth as Bruce stretched out on the couch. His leg was beginning to hurt after the day’s activities, and he gratefully accepted a pain pill, washing it down with hot chocolate.

They decided against turning on the radio or television. If Superman was needed, Chloe would get in touch with them. Instead Clark brought out an old-fashioned Monopoly board game and Bruce found himself having fun playing capitalist tycoon for an evening without worrying about real-life consequences for a change. 

“I get the top hat,” he insisted.

“Okay, Mr. Moneybags.” Clark picked up one of the pieces. “I’ll take the race car.”

Bruce was ruthless in acquiring his hotels on Park Place and buying up the railroad but Clark was equally aggressive, winding up the winner.

“You’re quite the wheeler-dealer.”

“Only with Monopoly money,” Clark laughed. “I’ll leave the high finance to you.”

They headed upstairs after putting away the game, getting ready for bed. Clark helped Bruce get into pale-blue silk pajama bottoms, putting on a pair of dark-blue pajama bottoms himself.

“Do we have to wear pajamas?” Bruce pouted.

“We aren’t gong to have sexy times.”

“Who says?”

“Your injuries.”

“They aren’t that debilitating.”

Clark’s eyes sparkled as he climbed into bed with his partner. “A peaceful evening wasn’t enough?”

Bruce kissed him. “Not with you in my bed.”

Clark chuckled as he pulled Bruce’s pajamas and underwear down, cupping his cock as he rained butterfly kisses across the beloved face. Bruce groaned as Clark’s deft hand manipulated him, his hips rocking forward, ignoring the pain in his thigh. He stroked Clark’s shoulders, rewarded by his lover’s gasps as one hand slid down to fondle a nipple. Electricity jumped between them as Bruce groaned again, giving one last thrust as he came, Clark biting his neck gently. 

Bruce panted, collapsing back against the pillow. “You haven’t lost your touch.”

Clark laughed, wiping his hand off with a tissue. “I hope not.”

Bruce touched Clark’s bobbing cock. “Let me return the favor.”

Clark happily allowed it, and Bruce was expert in bringing him to climax, eyes bright as he watched the emotions play across his lover’s beautiful face, rapturous at the moment of climax.

After cleaning them both up, Clark snuggled into bed with Bruce again, falling asleep almost immediately.

Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark, kissing his temple, as he stared out at the night sky before he too fell asleep.


	6. Ruins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark goes into town to get groceries and takes a detour on the way home.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_1_zps78f8f99f.jpg.html)

  
_The ruins of our lives,_   
_Are like rubble_   
_Strewn about_   
_Cracked and gray._   


  


**Alvin Ketter**  
 **“Ruins”**  
 **2001 C.E.**

Morning came early on the Kent Farm, and Bruce moaned at the thought of getting up with the sun.

“The sun in the sky, not you,” he grumbled.

Clark laughed and patted Bruce’s shoulder. “I’ll take pity on you, city boy. Sleep to your heart’s desire. I’m going to do some chores and then head into town for our groceries.”

“Mmph,” Bruce said from the depths of his pillow.

Clark kissed his lover’s shoulder and went to take a shower.

& & & & & &

Downstairs, he went out to the barn and did a few chores. He missed Bessie and the other cows, but they had a good home with the Wilsons now.

He went back inside the house and cooked up a breakfast of toast and bacon, only a few slices of the latter left in the refrigerator. There were only a few slices of bread left, too, so the trip to town was essential.

He left Bruce a note about the bread so that he could have toast when he woke up and went out to the back of the house. The truck was still there, and a turn of the key in the ignition revealed that it was still in running condition. He smiled as the truck bounced down the driveway.

He took his time, because even in Smallville businesses opened at a reasonable hour. He stopped at The Bluebird Diner, greeted by Sam, the owner and cook (whose last name Cook provided endless amusement), and Alma, the gum-chewing waitress who had been a fixture here for years. Her ginger hair was piled on the top of her head, the little white frilly cap perched precariously on her curls. Today she was wearing a yellow-and-white uniform. She had a different-colored uniform for every day of the week.

“You’re wearing yellow. It must be Friday,” Clark smiled.

Alma laughed and lightly punched his shoulder. “Aren’t you a comedian! Sam, isn’t he a comedian?” 

“He’s a regular Denis Leary,” Sam drawled.

“Ha, ha,” Clark said. He happily accepted a piece of apple pie from Alma.

“I didn’t know you were in town, Clark.”

“Yes, I got in yesterday. Bruce and I are on vacation.”

“Oh, that’s nice. How come he isn’t with you? Too early for the city boy?” she smirked.

Clark laughed as he picked up his fork. “You’ve got that right.” He took a bite of his pie. “Mmm, delicious as always, Sam.”

“You better believe it, Clark. My pies are rivaled only by your mother’s.” The stocky cook was the epitomes of the typical short-order cook: hairy arms, stubbled jaw, and a grease-splattered apron, but his kitchen was spotless. 

“I’d say you give Mom a run for her money.”

Sam grinned and banged some pots and pans as bacon crackled in the frying pan.

“So, how long you stayin’?” Alma asked as two farmers at the end of the counter argued over the _Metropolis Sharks’_ chances this season. 

“We’re not sure. We’re both exhausted from hectic city lives, and, um, Bruce had an accident.”

“Oh, dear! Is he all right?”

“He got banged up, so we decided to take a vacation.”

“Well, Smallville will help him. Good for what ails ya!” Alma lightly beat her chest as Clark grinned.

“Not any meteor mutants sightings lately?”

“Nope, which is a blessin’.” Alma picked up the coffeepot. “You haven’t seen any signs of ‘em, have ya?”

“No.”

“Good.” Alma adjusted her sleeve cuff. “I’ve had enough to last me a lifetime.”

Privately, Clark agreed. Meteor mutants always spelled trouble, and another soul was lost. When infected by meteor rock (now know as Kryptonite), the victim developed a psychosis that, in conjunction with their newly-acquired powers, became a deadly combination. 

Clark finished his pie and coffee and left a generous tip. He left to a chorus of fond goodbyes, going out into the crisp autumn air, dressed in warm red flannel, blue jeans, and workboots. He got into the truck and drove to Main Street, parking by the fruit store.

Smallville had small stores for its food service, the nearest supermarket located over in Granville. Some of the town’s citizens made occasional runs to the supermarket for items unavailable in town, but a weekly shopping list could be filled here.

“Hello, Mrs. Marinetti,” said Clark cheerfully as he entered the fruit store, happily inhaling the scent of peaches, apples, nectarines, and dozens of other fruits.

“Oh, hello, Clark!” The portly woman smiled. Her black hair was neatly-coiffed, and tiny silver bell earrings tinkled as she moved her head. “Good to see you, sweetheart.”

Clark was always glad to see the Italian-American woman, hr motherly interest making him feel special. He adjusted his glasses and picked up a basket, filling it with lush peaches, nectarines, strawberries, blueberries and kiwi fruit. Bruce was especially fond of blueberries, so Clark made sure to choose the plumpest, juiciest specimens, selecting several boxes.

“Are you staying long?” asked Mrs. Marinetti.

“For a couple of weeks.”

“You alone, or are Chloe and that nice Oliver with you?”

“I’m here with Bruce.”

“Oh, that’s nice. He needs to get away from those awful paparazzi.”

“Yes.” Clark ruefully remembered being a feature story more than once on shows like _TMZ, Entertainment Tonight_ , and _Access Hollywood_. Apparently the Prince of Gotham dating a reporter, even a Pulitzer Prize-winning one, was just too juicy and puzzling to fathom. “I doubt that any of them could find Smallville on a map.” 

She laughed. “Bet you’re right.”

Clark made trips to the butcher and general store, making a final stop at the sweets shop. When he was done with the grocery list, he got back in the truck and headed for home.

On the way he saw the small dirt road that led to the Luthor estate. Suddenly sad, he made a quick decision and turned down the road, eventually stopping the truck in the driveway after passing through the front gates, left sagging open as no one lived here anymore.

Clark got out of the truck, staring at the blackened ruins of the Luthor Castle, damaged walls sticking up toward the sky, weeds and trees encroaching on the crumbling stone and gradually claiming the ruins for their own.

Clark walked slowly toward the front door, the sturdy oak charred now, and he bypassed it for a hole in the wall. 

Inside, the foyer was rubble, the enormous crystal chandelier smashed to pieces, its shards glittering among weeds and chunks of stone. The grand staircase curved up to nowhere, the sky seen through another gaping hole.

Clark picked his way through the rubble, entering the library. His stomach clenched as he saw the blackened fireplace, the beloved books charred and further damaged by rain, patches of sky showing through holes in the roof.

He walked toward the desk, the silver pen set gone, probably stolen, and the LexCorp paperweight cracked as it lay in the rubble, the glass illuminated by diamond-shaped rainbow light, the stained-glass window somehow still intact.

The sadness grew heavier as Clark spotted the pool table, remembering all the good times with Lex playing pool, talking about books and the latest town gossip, and sitting by the fire drinking hot chocolate and eating his mother’s gingerbread or Cook’s chocolate chip cookies.

Good times supplanted by arguments fueled by fear, suspicions, and disappointment on both sides, until finally their friendship had crumbled like the stone walls, reduced to rubble at their feet.

_He doesn’t even remember me now._

“Hello, Clark.”

“Lex?”


	7. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark reminisces about his relationship with Lex.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_4_zps7c8babd3.jpg.html)

  
_Secrets chip away_   
_At love’s foundation,_   
_‘Til the cracks finally_   
_Break it apart._   


  


**Lady Susan Elsinore**  
 **“Love’s Lament”**  
 **1926 C.E.**

Clark’s heart pounded as he whirled, but there was no one there. He did a quick scan with his X-ray vision, but he was alone.

_This place must have spooked me more than I realized_

He wondered why the ruins had been allowed to stand. Lionel and Tess were gone, and Lex was…well, Lex remembered nothing about Smallville.

_He doesn’t remember those good times, our friendship, our…romance._

Clark kicked at a chunk of stone wall, remembering a day in this room long ago…

& & & & & &

_“Lex! Lex!”_

_“Hello, Clark.” Lex’s smile was welcoming, as always. “Why so excited?”_

_“I won the writing contest!” Clark flapped a piece of paper with the award-winning notice._

_Geuninely delighted, Lex said, “That’s great, Clark! You get a chance to get an article published in **The Daily Planet** and $500, right?” He looked at the paper._

_“That’s right.” Clark’s eyes sparkled. “I’m really good, Lex.”_

_Lex smiled. “I agree.”_

_“You encouraged me, Lex. I wouldn’t have done it without you.” Excited, Clark flung his arms around his friend and hugged him, brushing his lips across Lex’s cheek. Flustered, he pulled back, and saw Lex’s gray-blue eyes looking at him, his feelings mirrored in those eyes. “Lex…”_

_Lex’s hand cupped Clark’s face and he leaned forward, kissing the younger man gently._

& & & & & &

Clark brushed his fingers across his lips, his hand slowly dropping to his side. A robin flew in through the hole in the ceiling, Clark sighing as he gazed upon the shadows, the gloom pierced by autumn sunlight. Rays of mellow gold bathed the desk, Clark holding his hand out and absorbing the sunshine on his skin, turning away as he left the library.

Outside he breathed in the fresh air, rubbing one arm as he tried to let the melancholy wash away.

& & & & & &

Bruce watched the toast pop up, grabbing both slices. He spread strawberry jam over the toast, drinking apple juice as he sat at the kitchen table. He half-remembered Clark telling him that he was going to town for groceries, which was a good thing. The refrigerator was nearly empty, though the freezer was half-full.

His leg throbbed, reminding him that he needed to take his pain pill. His wrist ached and his ankle was sore, so the pill would help with those nagging pains, too.

He sighed. He had enjoyed a good night’s sleep but still felt tired.

_You must be getting old, Wayne. A good night’s sleep should do the trick._

He grimaced as he drank his juice. His high standards were not taking into account human frailties, namely, that after weeks of little or no sleep, combined with painful injuries, his body needed more than just one night of sleep not induced by pills.

_Clark’s way better than any sleeping pill._

He smiled at that thought, eating his toast. Eyes sparkling, he let his mind spin silly scenarios.

_If I bottled Essence of Clark, I’d make a fortune. Women and men would go crazy for it. Bottle his sunlight, his good cheer, his compassion, his sexiness…_

Bruce laughed. Maybe he was loopy from meds. He finished his toast and juice and hobbled over to the sink to wash the plate and glass.

& & & & & &

Bruce was sitting on the swing by the time Clark got back from town. He was shaved, showered and dressed, feeling a little mellow after taking his pain pill.

“Hey, you’re up!” Clark said as he exited the truck.

“Obviously.”

Clark grinned at the snarkiness. “I’ll just unload the groceries and be right out.”

Clark unloaded two sacks and walked past Bruce in to the house, quickly returning for the next load.

“Why don’t you park next to the kitchen door and unload there?”

“Maybe I like to see your smiling face.”

”Ha, ha.”

Clark grinned and went in with two more sacks.

Bruce gently rocked in the swing, pushing off with his good foot. Birds were singing in the trees, a slight breeze blowing.

Clark came out to join Bruce after the groceries were put away. He offered Bruce a cup of hot chocolate, which his lover accepted.

“Tiny marshmallows?”

“I bought a bag at the general store.”

“Hmph.”

Clark smiled as he sipped his hot chocolate, sitting on the railing.

As Bruce drank, he frowned slightly. Something was off about Clark.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?”

“Clark.” Bruce snapped his fingers. “Earth to Clark.”

Clark chuckled. “You’re sure you don’t mean Earth to Krypton?”

“That, too.” Bruce cocked his head. “What’s wrong?”

Clark sighed as he stared down into his mug. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“I stopped by the castle.”

“The what?”

“The Luthor mansion. Or what’s left of it.”

Bruce felt the tightening of his stomach. “Why?”

“I’m not sure, but I just felt drawn to the site. I spent a lot of happy hours there.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “You loved him.”

Clark looked up, startled. “Yes.” He smiled slightly. “I was terribly young, all lovesick over Lana, but Lex stirred things in me I’d never felt before.” He wiped his eyes. “Now he doesn’t even remember me.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Bruce said quietly.

“I know. Lex Luthor knowing my secret identity is not a good thing, but it still hurts that he’ll only see me as this alien he hates, instead of as Clark, whom he loved.”

The sadness in Clark’s voice hurt Bruce. He sipped his hot chocolate. “I’m sorry.”

Clark sighed. “It’s been over a long a time.” He looked off into the distance. “I was too young to make it work, and I was afraid to tell him the truth, which ultimately drove Lex away.”

“To be fair, Clark, that was a pretty big secret you were protecting. You couldn’t afford to let the wrong people know about you.”

“I know.” Clark sounded unconvinced.

“Lex always let his curiosity get the better of him.”

“I forget that you knew him, too.”

“When were both very young.”

“Yeah.” Clark sipped his drink. “I just hope I learned from my mistakes.”

Bruce looked guiltily at his mug. He had told Clark that he had been friends with Lex.

He had never revealed that he had slept with him.


	8. "Happiness Is Warm Buns..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has his own memories of his time with Lex.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_2_zpsdd8a5989.jpg.html)

  
_Party hearty_   
_Because tomorrow_   
_We die._   


  


**Old Roman Saying**  
 **(Adapted)**  
 **1st Century B.C.E.**

Bruce was still bone-tired, and stretching out on the living room couch seemed to be just his speed right now. Clark had insisted that he not contact Ollie or Dinah in Gotham, and Bruce did not even argue. Despite his giving Ollie a hard time, he knew that the archer was more than capable of filling in. Dinah had teased about dressing up in a Bat-costume and calling herself Batwoman.

_She’d make a damn fine Batwoman_

He scrunched the pillow beneath his head. He had been thinking more about legacies lately. Clark had Kara to wear the shield, and Ollie and Dinah had a partnership. They had been training Mia Dearden until she had been injured in a car accident, sidelining her temporarily, but the idea of a protégé was intriguing. A.C. had Mera for his partner, and Vic and Bart often teamed up.

What’s the matter, Bruce? The loner image not working for you anymore? He pounded the pillow again. _You have Clark, though we both have our own cities. Still, the media dubbed us the ‘World’s Finest’._ He tried to get comfortable, but his assorted injuries made it difficult.

A quilt was draped over him and he smiled. “Thank you, Alfred.”

Clark chuckled. “Go to sleep, Bruce.”

Bruce was more than happy to oblige, his tired mind drifting off to sleep.

& & & & & &

_“So, poor little rich kid get spanked by the headmaster?”_

_Bruce yawned. “There aren’t any headmasters at college, Lex.”_

_“A mere detail.” Lex waved his hand._

_Bruce drank from his plastic cup, the sharp tang of Jim Beam burning down his throat. Unruly hair hanging in his eyes, his pulse thrummed in tune with the beat of the ancient stereo downstairs._

_“This frat is the best on campus,” Lex said, lolling on the bed of his room._

_“Yeah.” Bruce’s eyes glittered and he kicked the door shut, locking it. “Best for partying.”_

_Lex smiled. “You got an idea, Wayne?”_

_“More like an urge, Luthor.”_

_Lex grinned as Bruce moved toward the bed._

& & & & & &

“Lex,” Bruce muttered.

Clark’s super-hearing heard Bruce. He felt a little guilty talking about Lex to his current lover, but Bruce knew about Lana and Lois, so Lex should be mentioned, too.

He resumed chopping onions for the hamburgers. There were large red onion slices and the chopped bits so that he and Bruce could choose.

Setting aside the bowl of onions, he went to the refrigerator and took out hamburger meat, glad that he had remembered not o put it in the freezer, though a judicious burst of heat vision could take care of that. Smiling, he set the meat on the cutting board and began adding bits of egg and breadcrumbs, including doses of Worcestershire sauce.

Cooking did not seem to be part of his rich boyfriends’ skills. Lex had been clueless in the kitchen, and Bruce was even worse. He himself was not Martha Kent or Alfred Pennyworth, but he could boil water without burning it. He smiled at an old memory…

& & & & & &

“C’mon, Lex, your kitchen is stocked enough to feed all of Smallville.”

“It is not. It’s just stocked enough to feed **you.”**

“Ha, ha.”

Clark rooted around through the cabinets, mentally cataloguing ingredients, then crossed to the enormous refrigerator and gawked at the contents.

“I was wrong. You couldn’t just feed Smallville, you could feed Granville **and** Smallville.”

Lex smirked , standing by the table as he watched Clark take inventory. “Find anything you like?”

“Wow, you know it. Let’s see, we’ve got enough in here to make a good stew.”

“You’re the boss.”

“In the kitchen? You bet.”

Lex laughed. “Give me your marching orders, Boss.”

“Okay…”

& & & & & &

Clark’s smile lit up his handsome face. He and Lex had enjoyed their cooking experience, Lex more than willing to help prepare their lunch, something usually only his hired help did.

Clark’s smile faded as his thoughts drifted. _Oh, Lex, you were so willing to experience ordinary life, something you never had the opportunity to experience._ Clark pressed his hand down to make patties. _Where did it all go wrong? You were eager to take part in my life, become part of the town, and fight Lionel to protect everybody._ He paused staring down at the hamburgers. _Lex, what happened to you?_

“Clark?”

Clark nearly jumped. _Damn Bat-stealth!_ “You’re up? I could have brought you something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Clark glanced over his shoulder. “Are you in pain?”

“No, I’m good. Are _you_ all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem sad.” Bruce used the crutch to cone all the way into the kitchen. “Are you tired?”

“A little.”

“I should help out more.” Guilt laced his voice.

“You’re here to rest.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t help. Beside, you’re here to rest, too.”

“You help in the kitchen? Why is it that I attract all the culinary incompetents?”

Bruce smirked, far from affronted. “Looks like hamburgers. Good choice.”

“It’ll be a gastronomic feast. I’ll put these on the grill and we can have ourselves a cook-out.”

“A cook-out? It’s pretty chilly out there.”

“What, the Bat is afraid of a little cool weather?”

“I’m a recuperating man,” Bruce whined.

“Ha, ha.” Clark placed the patties on a plate and looked in the breadbox. “You want your buns grilled?”

Bruce snorted. “I _like_ warm buns.”

Clark’s smile was blinding.

& & & & & &

Bruce had to admit that the cook-out idea was not a bad one. The smell of grilling meat touched something primeval in him.

“Huh. Great big caveman cooking his kill.”

Clark laughed. “More like the butcher shop’s weekly special.”

Bruce smirked as he drank his beer, leaning against the house. The kitchen table was set with their plates, cups and utensils, a bottle of ketchup, and jars of pickles and mustard. Two bowls of red onions were set out: one with large slices and one with chopped bits. Bruce’s stomach growled.

“I know these aren’t Kobe beef hamburgers, but it’s the best Arnie the butcher’s got.”

“They’ll do.” Bruce took another swig of beer. “You’ll do.”

Clark smiled, looking up shyly though his lashes. Bruce’s heart fluttered.

_I don’t know how Lex resisted as long as he did._

By the time Bruce had met Clark, his lover had been fully mature. What must have he been like in the full bloom of youth? The pictures from that time gave him an idea, but Bruce suspected that they did not do him justice. 

Clark had returned his attention to the grill, a small round machine that was painted apple-red.

_Naturally._

Bruce wondered if his and Lex’s attraction to Clark was partly that of two jaded, corrupted souls thirsting for genuine innocence and beauty. Clark was without artifice, and would be a completely open book if he did not have secrets to keep. Otherwise to those privileged to know the real Clark behind the bumbling facade, he was both shy and confident, an oddly-alluring mix.

_Lex must have been blown away when he first laid eyes on Clark. Sure, he’d just been rescued from drowning, but that must have made seeing him for the first time even more of an impact. Clark all wet, backlit by the sun? Be still, my heart_

Clark flipped the burgers over. He had been cheerful enough since his return from town, but Bruce could see the pensive mood just at the edges.

_That’s usually my schtick, Clark._

Maybe only Clark would mourn the loss of a romance with a man who openly scorned him now as Superman and was oblivious to him as Clark Kent.

He missed his old friend, too. He missed Lex’s cynical, snarky attitude which had matched his own in his younger days, both of them embittered by loss and a worldview that Clark would never understand.

“I think they’re ready.”

“Hmm?”

“The hamburgers are ready.”

“Oh! Great, I’m starving.”

Clark shook his head fondly as he scooped up the cooked burgers with a spatula and deposited them on a plate, following Bruce inside as the wind suddenly picked up, dark clouds gathering on the horizon.

& & & & & &

_He drifted, floating endlessly in gloomy halls and crumbling rooms. Sometimes the walls were gone and he was in a field of scorched grass, withered cornstalks as far as the eye could see. The sky was gray and it began to rain, the drops turning into glowing green meteors as hanks of red silk fell from his head to the ground, washing away as the rain came down harder. The earth began to tremble and a great, yawning abyss opened at his feet._

_A voice whispered on the wind, **“Why fight me, Lex? You are inferior, but your mind shows promise. Do not cower in the shadows. Accept your fate and you can rule the world with me. Your ambition will far out-do your father’s, and so will your success.”**_

_The green glow started to flicker in the abyss, eating away at the edges, creeping up toward him with inexorable speed._

_“No.”_

_**“I will destroy Kal-El and then no one on Earth can stop me, including you.”** _

_Lex screamed as he fell into the pit._

& & & & & &

Lex abruptly awakened at his office desk, his heart pounding. Odd that he was having dreams lately. He had not dreamed in years.

_A man with no soul rarely dreams._

The desk intercom buzzed. _“Stryker here, Mr. Luthor. We’ve found them. They’re in Smallville.”_

“Thank you. Keep me informed as to whether they leave.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

Lex glanced down at the legal pad on his desk. His handwriting was scrawled across the paper.

_He’s coming._


	9. Green-Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealousy erupts.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_1_zps78f8f99f.jpg.html)

_“Jealousy is man’s weakness.”_

  


**Diomonides**  
 **Greek Philosopher**  
 **336 B.C.E.**

Bruce slept most of the days, a routine forming on this rest-and-recuperation vacation. He would sleep until mid-morning while Clark did chores, went out to the fields to harvest pumpkins or help with bringing in the last of the corn. He would return for lunch, Bruce eating a light breakfast that Clark had left for him. Bruce would fall asleep in the afternoon, usually on the living room couch or in the loft as Clark wrote on his laptop or read a book. They shared a good dinner together, Clark whipping up delicious meals that Bruce said was partway to Alfred and Martha level.

“Only halfway?” Clark smiled.

“Hey, we’re talking gold medalists here.”

“Well, I’ll agree with that.”

The evenings were quiet, spent listening to music and talking about little things of no consequence, or the biggest things in the world. It was all the same, or very different. It didn’t really matter, as long as they were together.

As Bruce slept on the living room couch on the fourth day, Clark quietly turned the page of the magazine in his lap. He fixed his gaze on Bruce, pleased that his friend was getting the rest he so desperately needed. He treasured every moment of their time together.

_So why haven’t I told him that every day, I’ve gone to the ruins?_

Guilt made his heart heavy, but he still cherished the time.

He was not sure why he kept going back to the ruins. One visit should have been enough to break his heart, he thought sadly

_It still hurts, even after all these years._

The ticking of the grandfather clock complemented the sound of Bruce’s breathing. From far off, a dog barked while an owl hooted close to the house.

_So different here from Metropolis and Gotham. When Lex first came to Smallville, he couldn’t get used to the quiet, especially at night. He asked me how do you get to sleep without sirens and cars and helicopters buzzing around?_

Clark smiled, adjusting his glasses. He had gotten used to them in the past several years, a part of his disguise but a part of him now, too.

He rested his head back against the chair. Sitting in his father’s favorite chair felt relaxing, something that Bruce probably felt when he did the same thing in the Manor. Lex, on the other hand…

 _I haven’t thought this much about Lex in years, though he’s never far from my subconscious._ He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. _If things had worked out between us, we’d be together right now. Just your luck, Lex, to meet me when I was just a scared kid._ He looked at his companion. _Bruce was luckier._

Guilt flowed through him: guilt for failing Lex, guilt for thinking that he would still be with him, cutting Bruce out of the picture.

He sighed. Why did life have to be so complicated?

& & & & & &

_“Clark never gives up on someone he loves.”_

_The sunlight glinted off Martha’s hair as she stood on the porch, the autumn day brilliant around her. He could see why Jonathan Kent had fallen so hard for her._

_“That’s encouraging for me.” Bruce shifted his feet._

_She laughed and squeezed his hand. “You have nothing to worry about. You’re perfect for him.”_

_“Mmm.”_

_”He couldn’t make it work with Lana. It was just too exhausting, too back-and-forth, to ultimately work._

_“Lois looked promising, but when they literally tried to get married a dozen times with something always preventing it, they decided that the Universe was trying to tell them something, and called it quits._

_“And Lex…well, Lex and Clark met at the wrong time. Too many lies, too many misunderstandings, too much immaturity on both their parts.”_

_“But Clark still loves Lex?”_

_“A part of him always will.”_

& & & & & &

Bruce awoke fully, his hand groping for Clark. A warm hand closed over his.

“Ready for supper?” Clark asked.

“All I do is eat and sleep,” Bruce groused.

“And you do it so beautifully, too."

Bruce groaned as he pushed Clark away, his companion laughing.

“I’ll put the roast chicken in the oven, and maybe some baked potatoes and some fresh corn. How’s that sound?” 

“Like I’m in Smallville.”

Clark laughed again and went to the kitchen.

The wind rattled the windowpanes, Bruce stretching. He thought he heard someone whisper, “He’s coming,” but Clark was whistling as he prepared supper.

_Just the wind._

& & & & & &

The next morning, Bruce got up a little earlier, eating breakfast alone. He felt more rested but restless, if that made sense, he though wryly. He took his crutch and hobbled outside after donning his leather jacket. It was a beautiful morning, bright and golden and was like Clark smiling at him.

_Man, you **are** far gone! _

But he smiled as he took in the deep lungfuls of fresh air. His gaze fell upon the barn and he headed toward it, going inside and making his way laboriously up the stairs to Clark’s loft.

He had to admit that it was a great view from up here of the fields and woods, especially at this time of year with it all of its fall colors. He started to go closer to the window when he knocked a book off the desk. He bent down to pick it up and his gaze fell on the page that was open.

& & & & & &

_I really like spending time with Lex. He makes me feel special._

& & & & & &

Bruce noticed the date of the entry as being in Clark’s first year of high school, when he first met Lex.

_Fifteen and fresh. Oh, Lex, you were one lucky man._

Bruce began to return the journal to the desk but he was too curious. Shoving aside his guilt, he rationalized that if Clark wanted his journal to be unread, he wouldn’t have left it on the desk and would have hidden it away. He sat on the couch and began reading, unable to pass up the opportunity to learn more about Clark and Lex’s relationship, since his lover didn’t give him many details.

& & & & & &

_September 27, 2001_

_I can’t believe it. I got hit by Lex Luthor’s car on the bridge over the Eben River. It was a close call for both of us. I saved Lex from drowning and I know he’s sure he hit me. I hated lying to him, but I have no choice. I can’t risk anyone but Mom and Dad knowing my Secret. I don’t want to be a lab rat, which is what I will be if the Government finds out about me, and Mom and Dad would be in danger, too. What’s to stop the Government from taking them away to keep them quiet?_

& & & & & &

Bruce was struck by the enormity of the burden that a young Clark Kent had carried, not only for himself but for his parents, too.

_Little wonder that he was so reluctant to tell Lex the truth. And knowing Lex, his curiosity made him push. Clark would have been the ultimate mystery for him to solve._

He turned the page, still feeling guilty but unable to stop reading.

& & & & & &

_September 27, 2002_

_I love Lex._

_I guess that sounds silly, a 16-year-old in love with someone so smart and sophisticated. I bet he’d just laugh, but I can’t help it._

_And now isn’t that just a fine kettle of fish, like Dad would say. Not only am I an alien, but now I’m gay. Or maybe bisexual. I really do have feelings for Lana. I’m so mixed up!_

& & & & & &

_I bet you were._ Bruce remembered his own sexual confusion at that age, but he had managed to figure things out. _Ironically, with Lex’s help._

He smiled as the memories of his romps with Lex came to him bright and clear, full of snark and cynicism and hot sex. He chuckled softly as he remembered making love with Lex…

& & & & & &

_“Mmm, Bruce, harder.”_

_Bruce smiled as he increased his rhythm, sliding in-and-out of smooth flesh. Lex grunted, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. Bruce thrust in harder and faster, joy singing throughh is veins as he felt close to coming, his body thrumming with anticipation._

_“Ugh, Bruce, **now!”**_

_Bruce thrust one final time, stars sparkling in front of his eyes. He could feel Lex shudder beneath him as he slid bonelessly on top of his lover._

& & & & & &

“What are you doing?”

Bruce jumped, dropping the journal to the floor. He found himself looking into the angry blue eyes of his lover. 

“I…”

Clark bent down and retrieved his journal. “Are you in the habit of reading other people’s private journals?”

“I knocked it off the desk and it opened.”

“So you just decided to read it all?”

Bruce flushed guiltily. “I’m sorry, Clark. It’s just that I saw an entry about Lex…”

Clark snapped the journal shut. “My past with Lex is my business!”

“He was my friend, too.”

Clark put the journal back on the desk. “I know, but it’s different for me.”

Slightly stung, Bruce asked, “Do you regret the way things ended between you and him?”

“What?”

“If Lex hadn’t gone off the deep end, you would have tried to get back with him, wouldn’t you?”

Clark frowned. “There was too much water under the bridge.”

“But you would have tried.”

“Well, of course, Bruce. Lex was my first love.”

Martha’s voice echoed in Bruce’s head: _Clark never gives up on someone he loves._

“But it didn’t happen. Lex and I grew too far apart and then he sank into the darkness.” Clark looked out over the fields.

“Where were you?” Bruce asked, a sudden suspicion popping into his head.

“Hmm?” Clark seemed to be listening to something. 

“I asked, where were you?”

“Out in the fields. I am a landlord, after all.”

“You’re also a terrible liar.”

Clark's head shot up. "What do you mean?" His eyes sparked with anger.

“You were at the ruins again.”

Clark looked away, a slight flush of color suffusing his cheeks. “Yes,” he said.

“Why?” Bruce asked through gritted teeth.

”I don’t know.”

“Trying to recapture past glory? Remembering better days?”

Clark looked back at Bruce, angry again. “What are you talking about, Bruce?”

“I’m talking about you and your first love, Clark. Lana was a crush. Lex reached down into your soul.”

“You know I’ve always regretted the way my relationship with Lex ended.”

“To the point of standing in the ruins and weeping over what could have been? Forget it: he’s gone.”

“God, Bruce, you’re an ass.” Clark stalked down the stairs and out of the barn.

Bruce grabbed the journal off the desk and flung it across the loft to smash against the wall. He collapsed on the couch, limbs trembling.


	10. Insecurity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys make up.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_2_zpsdd8a5989.jpg.html)

_“Insecurity is the bane of man’s existence.”_

  


**Professor Alvar Montez**  
 **“The Condition Of Man”**  
 **1953 C.E.**

Clark stomped across the fields, his eyes glowing red. 

_Damn Bruce, anyway! Insecurity, they name is Bruce Wayne._

He didn’t use super-speed but walked fast, his anger boiling. He would have flung more words at his jealous lover, but a part of him had shown common sense. Harsh words said in the heat of anger could never be taken back. 

He was still furious, though. How _dare_ Bruce…Bruce…

He realized that he was back at the ruins. Chagrined, he nevertheless stayed. He was not going to avoid the site just because of Bruce’s accusations.

_He has some nerve, accusing me of pining after Lex. Just because I’ve been thinking back to those days lately doesn’t mean I don’t love him, the big dummy!_

Clark sighed as he stood in the burnt-out rubble, imagining the library as it once was, warm and welcoming and with Lex smiling when he first saw him. Clark smiled, remembering those happy times as the fire crackled in the fireplace and a snack would materialize for them both, always Clark’s favorites.

_And when you and I admitted our feelings fore each other, there were make-out sessions on the couch and then real lovemaking on the rug in front of the fire._

Clark’s heart broke a little as the images of him and Lex in a passionate embrace shimmered in his mind’s eye. Lex had been a patient teacher, and Clark had eagerly absorbed every lesson. He wiped away a tear.

_I’m sorry, Lex._

The wind blew in through the gaps in the walls, swirling around as it whispered, He’s coming.

Clark frowned. Was he hearing things?

_I must have widened my field of hearing accidentally and picked up someone in town._

He kicked at a large rock, watching it skid across the blackened floor. He suddenly felt tired and welcomed his old friend, guilt.

If he was honest with himself, he could understand why Bruce was upset. He did seem to be obsessing over Lex, which puzzled him. He and Bruce had come back here to Smallville many times, and those occasions had been years after his break-up with Lex. Why was this visit so different? 

_Maybe I’m just tired. Bruce isn’t the only one to have been run ragged lately._ He rubbed his face. _People think I can re-charge and be ready to go, but while my body is re-vitalized, I need rest for the mental part of the equation._

He needed less sleep then a human, but he still needed it. He needed to dream and rest, which he had figured out with Bruce’s help. Since so much of his heritage was guesswork, he had welcomed any assistance that he could get. The A.I. simulation of Jor-El was invaluable, but there were gaps in its programming, he had discovered. Help in the form of the Batman helped fell those gaps.

_Maybe all this running around and crushing responsibility is making me yearn for simpler times._

Even with the preponderance of meteor mutants in Smallville, things had been simpler then. He had enjoyed a fairly normal life, even through his high school years, as crazy as things got.

He morosely kicked at another stone. His obsession with Lex could merely be a response to his clash with him, smashing more 33.1 facilities while Lex’s security forces had fought back, to no avail. He was always conflicted going up against Lex but he thought Bruce had understood why.

_Ah, but then, there’s the Bruce-ian insecurities._

Clark picked up a chunk of rubble and casually chucked it across the room. It probably should seem odd that a billionaire with the world at his feet should be insecure about anything, but Clark knew better.

_He’s never really gotten past that terrible moment in Crime Alley when his parents were gunned down before his eyes. He went from safe and secure to the earth opening up beneath his feet, and he’s been trying to avoid the abyss ever since._

Clark felt guilty at the way that he’d been avoiding Bruce’s feelings.

_What kind of a partner am I?_

He looked sadly at the ruins of his first lover’s home and wondered if his relationship with his current lover was just as much rubble.

& & & & & &

Back in the loft, Bruce could not stop shaking. He sat on the well-worn couch and stared out at the fields as he wrapped his arms around himself.

_You idiot! Why did you throw those suspicions in Clark’s face? You’re a detective, detect! You should have found out for sure before lobbing bombs._

Bruce ran a shaking hand through his hair. He was still angry but also afraid.

_What if I drive him away with my jealousy?_

He had always been possessive, as if afraid that everyone he loved would leave him. He didn’t need a psychiatrist to figure out why, but neither could he control what he felt.

_All the ninja training in the world won’t change that, I guess._

He was angry at himself as well as at Clark. He had handled everything badly, even if he had been right.

 _Clark’s thinking more and more about those days with Lex. If he was happy with me, he wouldn’t be so eager to revisit the past._  
Bruce wiped at his eyes, wondering how he could have been so stupid.

Two years is a good run, right 

He felt utterly miserable and exhausted.

& & & & & &

Clark walked back slowly to the barn, his shoulders hunched against the wind. The leaves were swirling around as the wind gusted up, a smell of rain tickling his nose. He looked up, scanning the horizon. There were no tornadoes forming, thank goodness, though he might welcome the work-out.

He reached the barn a lot quicker than he would have liked, dreading the conversation to come, but it couldn’t be helped. Squaring his shoulders, he entered the barn.

It was quiet but his knew that Bruce was still here. He could hear his heartbeat, and its speed indicated agitation, which was not a surprise.

He went up the stairs and when he reached the top, Bruce looked up from his seat on the couch.

_My god, he looks like a lost little boy._

& & & & & &

Bruce gazed at Clark, feeling uncomfortably naked to that green-eyed gaze. Sympathy shone in those eyes.

_Maybe anger is better._

“I’m sorry,” Clark said quietly.

Bruce took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, too.” It broke his heart to see how tentatively Clark approached him. “I shouldn’t let my stupidity rule my mouth.” His rueful tone made Clark smile slightly. 

“Guilty here, too.” Clark sat next to his partner on the couch. “I should have told you that I was visiting the ruins every day.”

Bruce shrugged. “You have a right to do what you want and go where you want. You don’t need to check in with me.”

Clark took Bruce’s hand. “If I’m not telling you something as simple as I’m visiting the ruins, then you have a right to be concerned.”

Bruce smiled a little shyly, then his eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. “Tell me about the ruins. Make me understand.”

Clark’s smile was like a balm to Bruce’s aching soul. “It’s…strange.”

”How so?”

“I feel…drawn to them, somehow.”

“Drawn to them?” Bruce felt a frisson of fear curl through him.

“Just that I feel compelled, almost, to go there.”

Bruce bit his lip. “Like mind control?”

Clark looked startled. “I don’t think so. I know what being mind-controlled feels like, “ he added wryly.

Bruce had to chuckle at that, remembering the “If it’s Tuesday, Superman must be mind-controlled” mantra. It really was not as bad as that, but sometimes it seemed like it. Villains figured the best way to defeat the Man of Steel was to control him. Oddly enough, Lex had never attempted it.

_I guess we can consider ourselves lucky._

“I don’t know why I’m so drawn to the place. I know that the castle is the setting for a lot of happy memories, but it’s also where it all began to unravel. Lex had this secret room with pictures of me, a piece of his crumpled Porsche from where he hit me, and all sorts of things, like a steel rod that was twisted by me with finger indentations. All of it scared me when I saw it, and I got angry. If only I’d told Lex the truth…”

Bruce grasped Clark’s hand. “It was your Secret to tell.”

“But…”

“Lex had a right to be curious, but not to force you to reveal what you wanted kept private.”

“I didn’t trust him enough,” Clark said, guilt dripping from every word.

“Maybe with good reason.” Bruce squeezed his lover’s hand.

“But…” Clark looked at Bruce. “I wasn’t a good friend.”

“You had more than just yourself to protect.”

Clark bit his loip, looking so young and vulnerable in that moment that Bruce’s heart sent out to him.

“But even if Lex had proved trustworthy, there was Lionel to consider.”

“I know about Lionel.”

“I know you do, but Lex comes with that baggage. He once told me that he could never keep a secret form Lionel. Even if it took years, Lionel would have found out.”

“Lex would have protected me from his father.”

Bruce silently agreed. It was Lex’s lot in life to do battle with his father, and he never shirked that responsibility “But you couldn’t take that risk,” Bruce said softly.

“No.” Clark’s voice was broken.

Swallowing, Bruce fought down his jealousy. He knew that he was being foolish, but he could not help it. Yet jealousy from him was not what Clark needed. He needed a cool head and warm heart.

“Take me to the ruins.”


	11. When The Wind Whistles Through The Ruins...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe helps keep things tension-free during the fight’s aftermath.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_1_zps78f8f99f.jpg.html)

  
_When the wind whistles_   
_Through the ruins,_   
_You know that it’s time,_   
_To look over_   
_Your shoulder._   


  


**Sir Alec Marchess**  
 **“The Ruins”**  
 **1896 C.E.**

The ruins of the Luthor castle were painful for Bruce to look at. They were too similar to the Manor ruins after the fire set by Ra’s Al-Ghul.

He looked at the rubble, the portions of walls still standing, looking like some bombed-out structure from a past war. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass window, the rainbow of colors somehow melancholy instead of cheerful.

Motes of dust and pollen swirled around in the beams of light, Bruce noting the ruined books scattered around and the pool table littered with rubble and books. He could just imagine Clark and Lex playing pool. He was good at it himself, and he knew that Lex was too…

& & & & & &

_Rock music blared down the hall, but it was relatively quiet here in the library of the fraternity house. The bookcases held books from past generations, some of them useful for current students. Despite the frat house’s well-deserved reputation for hard partying, studying **did** go on here._

_But at this moment, people were relaxing, and Bruce was enjoying his game with Lex. Lex took his next shot and successfully rolled the ball into the side pocket. Smirking, he shot two more balls into their intended pockets. He brushed past Bruce, his tight buttocks shown off to perfection in his gray slacks._

_Bruce’s eyes glittered. Two could play at this game. He deliberately chose a shot that required him to bed over right in front of Lex, his jeans well-worn and snug. He smiled as he heard Lex’s hitch of breath behind him. He took a shot, knocking a ball into the corner pocket. Standing up, he caressed his cue stick with his thumb._

_“Looks like I get another shot.”_

_“You sure do,” Lex murmured._

_Bruce smirked again as he aimed for the eight ball, bending over._

_**Or maybe Lex is behind the eight ball.** _

& & & & & &

A robin flew by, startling Bruce out of his reverie. He looked around for Clark.

His lover was standing by the fireplace, gazing into the hearth. Bruce wondered what he saw in there, but suspected it was much as he had seen.

_Memories are powerful things. They help make us who we are. If I never remembered Crime Alley, I would be a far different person._

There were times that he was tempted to ask Zatanna if there was a spell to erase a certain memory, but then would he be Batman anymore?

Besides, I’m not keen on messing with my memories. The only good thing I remember about that night is Jim Gordon, comforting me at the station. I don’t want to lose that. I’ve felt connected to him since the beginning because of that night.

Bruce hobbled over to where Clark stood, careful of the treacherous rubble that could trip him up. He leaned heavily on his crutch, putting his hand on Clark’s arm.

“Clark?” he asked softly.

Clark’s faraway look faded as he returned to reality. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Bruce squeezed his arm. “It’s okay. I was remembering, too.”

Clark looked directly at him. “I know. You knew him, too.”

Bruce nodded. “Some very good memories, in fact.”

“I’m glad.” Clark’s eyes were sad. “Lex needed times to make happy memories.”

Bruce couldn’t argue with that. He doubted that Lex had enjoyed many happy times in his life. He well knew that great wealth did not make a person automatically happy.

The wind blew through the gaping spaces in the walls and Bruce shivered.

_Something wicked this way comes._

“You’re cold,” Clark said in concern, gripping Bruce’s arm.

“It’s just the wind,” Bruce shrugged, but his skin was prickling.

“We’d better get back to the house.”

Bruce did not object, allowing Clark to help him out of the ruins. Another gust of wind caused him to pause and he looked around with a frown. “Did you hear something?”

Clark shook his head, still totally focused on Bruce.

“I could have sworn…oh, well, it was just the wind.” Bruce shrugged.

They left the ruins, the wind swirling around.

& & & & & &

Back at the farmhouse they were surprised to see a lemon-yellow Corvette parked in the driveway.

“That’s Chloe’s car, isn’t it?” Bruce asked.

“Yes.”

Concerned, both men exited the truck and headed toward the house.

Chloe came out on the porch. “Hi, guys!”

“What’s up?” Clark asked, “Alien invasion?”

She laughed. “No, I just needed to check some of the historical records for an article I’m writing.”

“You need to actually come to Smallville?” Bruce asked as he reached the porch, Clark at his elbow. “The records aren’t on-line?”

Chloe and Clark exchanged knowing grins. “This is _Smallville_ ,” said Chloe, as if that explained everything. She and Clark laughed at Bruce’s puzzlement.

They went inside and Bruce gratefully sank down on the couch. He was dismayed at how tired such a short journey had made him.

“I can make some turkey sandwiches if you guys are interested,” Chloe offered.

“Sounds good, Chloe,” Clark said and she nodded, heading for the kitchen. At Bruce’s inquisitive look, he explained, “Smallville doesn’t have its historical records on-line. Only some of those in the library are digitized, but the Historical Society is all on paper.”

“Ah, of course.” Bruce leaned back against the couch. “So Chloe’s staying with us?”

”Not if you two lovebirds would rather I stay at Mrs. Krebs’ boarding house,” Chloe called from the kitchen. 

“Not much lovebirding going on,” Clark called back with a laugh.

“Great. Why don’t you broadcast our love life on the nearest radio station?” Bruce groused.

Clark’s eyes sparkled. “That would be over in Granville. Mostly weather reports and discussions of the corn market.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as Clark laughed again, but he was happy to hear it. He hated fighting with Clark.

“Come and get it!” Chloe called cheerfully.

Bruce hobbled into the kitchen with Clark’s help, greeted by the sight of a smiling Chloe and the plates of turkey sandwiches, chips, and pickles. Lemonade sparkled in tall glasses.

“Looks great, Chloe.” Clark held out Bruce’s chair, the billionaire gratefully sitting down. Clark took his own seat as Chloe sat down.

“So, what’s this article about?” Clark asked.

“About Hepzibah Collins.”

“Ah.”

”Hepzibah?” Bruce asked.

Chloe grinned. “A rather famous resident of Smallville back in the 19th century.”

“Ah.” Bruce thoughtfully chewed his sandwich. “Her name sounds 17th century.”

“True.” Chloe crunched noisily on a chip. “She was an advocate for the women of the village. She would have been an activist in the 17th century, for goodness’ sake, but there was no Smallville then.”

“So she pushed for women’s rights?” Bruce asked, taking a bite of his pickle.

“Yeah. She knew Susan B. Anthony and the others suffragettes of the time.”

“You would have made a great suffragette, Chloe,” said Clark.

Chloe grinned. “Lois, too.” Both men groaned and she laughed.

They chatted of town goings-on, Chloe and Clark relaying news of friends and acquaintances, and Bruce listening to the travails of Myrtle Campbell and the rocky romance between Sarah Susskind and Albert Crandall.

Small towns were like families and constituted the good and bad of that situation, which could be boiled down to the good: everyone knowing you, and the bad: everyone knowing you. Faults and foibles were well-known to every citizen, but your triumphs were warmly celebrated.

Bruce had seen first-hand how proud Smallville’s citizens were of one of their own, Jonathan and Martha’s son, becoming a successful Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter for the prestigious _Daily Planet_. He was a well-liked native son, and memories abounded of the perpetually cheerful Clark Kent.

Small towns also knew everybody’s business. It still amazed Bruce that the Kents had managed to keep the world’s biggest secret in one of the word’s smallest towns. It was nothing short of a miracle.

It was worlds apart from what he had known growing up in Gotham. He loved Gotham as much as Clark loved Smallville, something they shared yet their backgrounds were so different.

He still worried that they were too different.

“Oh, do you remember when Lex helped out trick-or-treating his first year here?” asked Chloe.

“Do I? He observed the ritual like he was Margaret Mead in the South Pacific.”

They both laughed, and Bruce wondered how difficult it must have been for Lex to try and fit in here. A small town never considered you truly a native unless you were born here. A man could live in Smallville thirty years and still be considered a newcomer. It was just the way of things, and especially hard when you were a rich man whom the hard-working citizens considered more of a parasite than someone to fawn over. He had enjoyed the advantage of being the owner of the fertilizer plant with numerous jobs depending on Luthor largesse, but that could also be a disadvantage.

Bruce finished his sandwich, his head whirling. Maybe he needed another nap.

 _You’re getting soft, Wayne. Where’s your drive, your ambition?_ He drank his lemonade. _It’s Clark, damnit, wrapping me in all this domesticity._  
“The kids want to put on a carnival next month,” Chloe said. “Jenny Mallow wants to do some trapeze stunts.”

”Is she trained for the trapeze?” Clark asked.

“No, but she’s a good gymnast. We just don’t have anyone to teach her some of the basics. The trapeze set is no high-wire, but she needs some guidance.”

“Bruce can teach her.”

“What?” Bruce paused in bringing his glass to his lips.

“You can teach Jenny some moves.” Clark calmly ate his sandwich.

“And how do I explain my high-wire knowledge?”

“Like you explain everything else: your little seven-year sojourn from Gotham brought you to a lot of different places. You studied under some of the finest acrobats in Europe for a lark.”

“A lark, huh?”

“Yeah, a lark.”

”Hmph.”

“You’ll do a great job, Bruce,” said Chloe.

“I’ve never worked with kids!”

“So, now you’ll learn,” said Clark.

“Hmph.”

“Whatta ya think, Chloe? Do you think we can beat Bruce at Monopoly?”

“I bet we can.”

”Ha, get ready to go down, peasants.”

After lunch they setup the board in the living room on the coffee table, Bruce sitting on the couch while Chloe and Clark sat on the floor.

While they played, Bruce felt himself relaxing after the tension of the day. Maybe he was silly to worry. Clark loved him and he never gave up someone he loved, right?

He smirked as he moved the top hat to Park Place and put up a big hotel.


	12. The Full Bloom Of Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Chloe discuss having children while Bruce plays impresario.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_1_zps78f8f99f.jpg.html)

_“Children are the future. They are the hope that one will come.”_

  


**Dr. Bill Cosmos**  
 **Child Psychologist**  
 **1984 C.E.**

Bruce looked at Jenny Mallow, a slender little redhead with endless energy. She was twelve years old, a little on the thin side because she was a gymnast, but her freckled face was lively, her green eyes missing nothing. Dressed in a Kelly-green gymnast leotard, she looked at her prospective teacher coolly while she popped gum.

Bruce looked back at her just as coolly. No false smiles for him! This girl was sharp, and treating her like a child would get him nowhere. He crossed his arms as he sat on the lawn chair that Clark had provided. 

“You look all banged up. How are you going to teach me how to fly?”

“I’ll teach you the principles. Clark will demonstrate some of the techniques if necessary.”

 _“Clark?”_ She scoffed. _“He_ didn’t study under the big shots in Europe, _you_ did.”

“And I taught him.”

She rolled her eyes as she tossed her ponytail back. “Clark’s not an acrobat! He’s not exactly graceful.” 

_You’ve never seen him fly,_ Bruce smirked but he said haughtily, “You’re not looking at things like an acrobat. Clark isn’t the model of the ideal acrobat, but a good teacher can bring out what is good in him for the trapeze. You’ve got to see beyond the obvious.”

Interest flickered in those green eyes. “Okay, let’s see what ya got.”

“No, let’s see what _you’ve_ got.” He tapped his cane impatiently on the ground. He had switched his crutch for the cane for this meeting. He wanted the image of a demanding instructor, like for ballet or some other rigorous discipline.

Jenny’s eyes glittered with respect. “Okay. What do I do first?”

Bruce looked at the rigging set up here on the fairgrounds. It was not as high as a regular trapeze set-up, and there was a net stretched out underneath. This wasn’t the Flying Graysons, after all.

“Get up there and let me see you swing on the bar.”

She scrambled up the spikes and grabbed the bar as soon as she reached the platform. Bruce intently watched as Jenny swung back-and-forth, showing good balance.

“Can you flip to the next bar?”

“Sure.” Jenny let go of the bar and spun, stretching out her limbs and grabbing the second bar and swinging to the opposite platform.

“Mmm, the technique is passable.”

“Passable!” Bruce had to hide his smile at her outrage. “Boy, you need an eye doctor.”

Bruce stood and began walking away.

“Hey, where ya goin’?”

“I don’t teach students who don’t show me respect.”

Jenny scowled as Bruce continued walking away, then she called, “All right; I’ll be better!”

Bruce stopped, then turned around. “All right then. Warm up and I’ll be with you in a minute.” 

“Good move,” Chloe smirked as she and Clark walked over to Bruce. “Jenny’s a bright kid but a little too fond of her gift for sarcasm and arrogance.”

“She’ll probably be a great acrobat, then.”

“You don’t think a cheerful, sunny girl can be a great acrobat?” Clark asked with a smile.

“The grouchy are the best artists and athletes.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Seems to me that the cheerful can be successful,” Chloe said.

“Successful, sure, but not one of the greats!” Bruce gestured theatrically as Chloe giggled and Clark laughed.

“Better get back to your student before she mutinies,” Chloe advised.

“I like a challenge.” Bruce’s eyes gleamed as he hobbled back to the trapeze area.

“This was a brilliant idea of yours, Chloe.” 

“Thanks. Knowing Bruce, once he was rested enough he would start getting restless but his injuries would still keep him from returning to Gotham. Playing acrobatic impresario to Jenny the diva will keep him occupied.” 

“He’ll learn whether he’s good with kids.”

”She’s a handful, all right, and needs a firm hand like Bruce’s.” Chloe looked at Clark. “Are you interested in starting a family?”

“Maybe someday,” Clark said wistfully. “But with our crazy lives, it’s unlikely, at least for now. Besides, Bruce really doesn’t know if he’d be good with kids.”

“He might be, you know. I have a feeling that he’d be best with a bright child like Jenny who can keep him on his toes.”

“Someone sarcastic and cynical like him?”

She laughed. “Maybe, but he seems attracted to sunny personalities, too.”

Clark smiled as he watched Bruce verbally spar with spitfire Jenny. “Maybe you’re right.” He bit his lip. “Lex and I talked about having kids once. He was determined to be a better father than Lionel had been.”

“That wouldn’t be hard.”

Clark silently acknowledged Chloe’s barb. “He didn’t want to become his father.” He sighed.

Chloe diplomatically refrained from saying that now Lex was worse than his father had ever been.

Clark suddenly smiled sheepishly. “Guess I was caught up in the ‘good ol’ days’.”

“Nothing wrong with that. Our past makes us who we are.”

_It’s probably no more apropos than with the World’s Finest._

Clark looked thoughtful. “You’re probably right.” 

“Hey, I _know_ I am.” Chloe’s sparkling smile evoked a similar one from Clark.

Chloe and Clark grabbed some chairs and sat, catching up on things in town while Bruce ran Jenny through her paces.

The wind gusted and scattered fallen leaves as the sun shone down warmly, Clark basking in its rays like a cat. Chloe always loved seeing him re-charge, his skin glowing with good health and the power that the sun bestowed upon him.

She was more than happy with her life with Ollie, but her friendship with Clark was special to her. They had been through so much together, and she had been only the second of Clark’s friends to learn about his Secret. That had created a bond between them that would always be unbreakable. 

“Speaking of families, Ollie and I are considering starting one.”

Clark was watching Jenny perform a flip to catch the bar when Chloe spoke. Startled, he looked at her with a big smile.

“You are? That’s great!” He hugged her and she laughed. As they parted, Clark peppered her with question. “When? Soon or in the future? Do you hope for a boy or a girl?”

“Whoa, there, big fella!” Chloe laughed. “We’ve set our sights on a boy.” Once again Clark was startled. “We’re going to adopt.”

“Oh!” Clark blushed slightly. “I’m sorry, I thought…”

“I know. Most people do.” Chloe squeezed his arm. “But adoption worked well for you.”

“Oh, yes!” Clark’s eyes sparkled.

Chloe laughed again. Martha and Jonathan Kent had been the perfect couple to raise Clark. Little wonder that Jor-El and Lara had chosen them.

“You and Ollie will be great parents, Chloe.”

“Thanks.” She nearly laughed as Bruce harangued Jenny. He was going to be such a good teacher for her. “The boy we’re considering is a real sweetheart. He grew up on an Indian reservation in Arizona, but he’s not Native American. He’s the son of a Forest Service Ranger who was killed defending the tribe’s Chief, so they adopted him.”

“Wow, that’s an interesting history.”

“He’s really quite adorable.” She looked around but they were alone. “He’s a very skilled archer, too.”

Clark laughed. “Really?”

“Yep. Strong Bow was his mentor and taught him. Ollie’s really excited about teaching him more things.”

“That sounds great, Chloe. I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Well, we’re still undergoing review. There’s no guarantee.”

“You’ll be allowed to adopt him.”

Chloe was pleased by Clark’s confidence. “Thanks. And of course you’ll be the godfather.”

“You bet.”

“No, no, slow down! It’s about about the timing!” Bruce shouted.

Clark and Chloe exchanged a smile.

& & & & & &

_He walked through the wilting cornfields, the sky a slate-gray. Not a bird or other animal could be seen. It was if he was the last living thing on Earth._

_He felt a ravening thirst as he stumbled along, rusty long black coat flapping in the breeze, tattered and worn. His lips were parched as the skin on his head crackled. He kept walking and walking, for an hour, for a day, for a year. He could not be sure._

_**“I’m coming, Lex. You were right. I’m coming.** ”_

_Lex continued walking, trying to ignore the voice. He pushed through the corn, noting the withered ears, dry to the touch and completely inedible._

_**Corn, corn, everywhere, and not a kernel to eat.** _

_He broke out into a clearing, stopping as he saw Clark hanging naked on a cross, a necklace with Green Kryptonite glowing around his neck, blood running down his chest and thighs from a crudely-cut ‘S’ on his chest. The cuts were ugly and livid, a hideous carving from living flesh. His head was hanging, dark hair falling into his eyes._

_**“He died for your sins, Lex. And you have many sins.** ”_

_Lex stared at the perfectly-formed body so viciously scarred. His chest ached as he dispassionately viewed the scene. It began to rain, the blood washing down the body and pooling at the foot of the cross, soaking into the parched ground._

_The rain fell down Lex’s face, and if tears were mixed with it, only he knew._

& & & & & &

Lex abruptly awoke, his eyes unblinking as he stared at the raindrops streaking his penthouse bedroom window as lightning streaked jagged across the dark sky.

_He’s coming._


	13. "He's Coming"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm approaches.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_2_zpsdd8a5989.jpg.html)

  
_The wind whispers_   
_O’er hill and dale_   
_As timid souls_   
_Feel the coming_   
_Of Apocolypse_   
_In their bones._   


  


**Lady Anna Devane**  
 **“The Coming Tide”**  
 **1466 C.E.**

The wind swept over the Kansas prairie, people preparing for winter while in the full glory of autumn. Clark took down the screens and checked the caulking to make sure no drafts would find their way inside the house. He checked the barn and was satisfied that there were no major holes in the walls. He would chop wood to provide fuel for the fireplace and the pot-bellied stove in the loft.

Bruce helped with the screens and Chloe kept the two of them fortified with hot, savory beef stew. She went into town after lunch to visit the Historical Society and Clark drove Bruce to the fairgrounds where Jenny was impatiently waiting for him. While still in the car, Bruce smirked. “She’s eager for learning.”

“I can’t see why with _you_ as her teacher.”

“Ha, ha.” Bruce got out of the car and hobbled under his own steam toward Jenny, who was waiting with arms crossed and a pout on her freckled face, which she quickly schooled into a neutral expression as Bruce approached.

 _He’s got her trained well_ , Clark thought with a chuckle. He waved and drove off to the Wilson farm.

& & & & & &

Chloe talked with Adele Simmons, curator of the Smallville Historical Society. The brown-haired woman wore her hair pulled up, cats-eye glasses twinkling in the soft light of the room in the Society’s modest brick building. Adele towered over Chloe as they discussed the records of Hepzibah Collins. Dressed in a dark-green tailored suit, she was very business-like.

“Come this way.”

Adele led Chloe to a smaller room with shelves of old books. The room was temperature-controlled, so Chloe wore a blue sweater as she began sifting through the books that Adele had laid out on the table. She wore gloves as she handled the books as part of the preservation process. Adele left, confident that Chloe would treat the books with care. Chloe appreciated her trust.

The room was quiet as she carefully turned the pages, making notes in a notebook. She liked the old-fashioned research. Internet research was quick and convenient but was antiseptic. To get a sense of the times, one should smell the old acidic paper and feel how brittle the pages were to the touch, seeing the patina of age and the faded blue-ink scribblings in the margins.

As she gathered information, Chloe inexplicably thought of Tess. 

_Funny that I should think of her out of the blue_. Chloe sighed. _I miss her._

At first their relationship had been adversarial, because Tess’ computer skills rivaled hers. Chloe didn’t need a psychiatrist to figure out why. Tess had been encroaching on her territory, and not just the computer: she had been Ollie’s lover long before Chloe, and even more worrisome, she had known about Clark. 

_Though back in the day, who **didn’t** know about Clark? Pete, Alicia, Lionel, Tess, Ollie, me…Lex knew, even though he was never given confirmation._

But while they had started out on a rocky foot, eventually she and Tess had bonded over their concern for Clark and Ollie. They had spent countless hours in the Watchtower, eating ice cream and talking like some Justice League version of a slumber party. 

Chloe smiled. Those had been good times as they had learned to trust one another. Her smile faded as she thought of Tess’ death.

_Maybe you were always fated to end up badly, Tess. Maybe being born a Luthor put you behind the eight ball when it came to happiness._

Suddenly melancholy, Chloe shivered as she turned another page.

& & & & & &

“Hey, Bessie,” Clark petted the cow’s nose as Bessie twitched her tail.

“She’s always glad to see you, Clark,” said Tom Wilson, a ruddy-faced man with work-hardened muscles and a shock of carrot-red hair. His jeans and red flannel shirt were well-worn.

“Always glad to see her, Tom.” Clark grinned as Bessie nuzzled his hand. “How’s Sally?”

“Right as rain.” Tom squinted at the horizon. “And it looks like we might be gettin’ some rain.”

Clark looked at the horizon and nodded. “The clouds do look ominous.” The wind gusted to underscore his words. Bessie lowed, Clark sensing her nervousness. He frowned. He hoped that a meteor mutant wasn’t on the loose. He checked Bruce and Jenny at the fairgrounds with his telescopic vision, but they were safe. He did the same for Chloe at the Historical Society but she was fine, too. 

“Brewin’ up to be a big one,” Tom said as he lazily chewed a piece of Wrigley gum.

Clark agreed. Growing up in farm country attuned you to the nuances of the weather. His skin prickled as he anticipated the storm.

He resolved to keep an eye on his friends.

& & & & & &

“Okay, keep that timing.” Bruce watched as Jenny did a flip and grabbed the bar. Still a little clumsy, but the girl had natural grace. He was careful not to offer too much praise, though. A girl like Jenny was already too enamored of her gifts. Better to keep her on her toes.

Jenny swung back to the platform. She frowned as the wind blew hard across the fairgrounds, scattering leaves and bits of paper.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Bruce asked, checking his notes on his iPad.

“Someone said, ‘He’s coming.’”

& & & & & &

Chloe stared down at the faded blue elegant handwriting on the acid-stained paper. She was getting a good sense of Miss Hepzibah Collins. She was a woman of strength and vigor and disdained what society said a woman’s role should be.

_I like that. Hepzibah, you would have liked the 21st century._

She continued to research, fondly recalling a scene from the day before:

& & & & & &

Clark and Bruce sat on the porch swing, both clad in jeans, Clark wearing his red cloth jacket over his favorite red flannel shirt. Bruce was wearing his black leather jacket over a black shirt, the soft cast on his right wrist stark-white in contrast to the darker colors.

The late afternoon sunlight was a shade of butter-gold, highlighting both men’s dark hair. Bruce stared down into his mug of hot chocolate, Clark looking off into the distance as he grasped his own mug. A fat orange pumpkin was set next to the door, Midnight curled up close to it.

An observer might think that they were aloof or distant with each other at first glance, but then the observer would notice Bruce’ s left hand reaching out toward Clark, whose right hand was reaching to meet his lover’s.

But Chloe was not just some observer. She knew these men well. She had a Ph.D. in Clark Kent and was working toward one in Bruce Wayne, though ironically the human Bruce was tougher to read than the Kryptonian Clark. Something had upset them before her arrival, but they had kissed and made up. Literally!

& & & & & &

Chloe came back to the present, shivering a little in the cold room. She pulled her sweater closer around her.

Adele opened the door. “We’re closing early, Chloe. There’s a storm brewing.”

Chloe nodded. She knew how fast these things could develop in Kansas. She helped Adele put the books and journals away and followed her out of the room, Adele locking the door behind them. Chloe looked out the window and saw the greenish cast to the sky. 

“Looks like a twister’s coming.”

Adele nodded. “You’d better get home and batten down the hatches. That’s where I’m headed right now.”

Chloe smile to herself, knowing that they were safe with Clark around, but old habits were ingrained in her. Anyone growing up in Kansas automatically began preparations once they saw the signs of a tornado. It was in their bones, so Chloe found herself heading for the Kent farm.

& & & & & &

Clark helped Tom get the cows into the barn then said, “I’d better get over to the fairground and pick up Bruce and Jenny.”

“Good idea. See ya later.”

Clark got into the truck and rattled down the road, scanning the horizon. He didn’t see a tornado forming, which was odd. The color of the sky and the wind’s pick-up certainly indicated a twister coming. Puzzled, he increased the speed of the truck.

& & & & & &

Jenny yelped as a strong gust of wind swung her around as she held onto the bar for dear life.

“Drop to the net, Jenny!” Bruce called. She obeyed and bounced into the net, flipping down onto the ground.

“I better get home.”

“I’ll call Clark and have him come pick us up.”

“Hey, right on cue!” Jenny laughed as the Kent truck rattled up the road.

Clark grinned as he drove up. “Hop in!”

Jenny did so with alacrity, helping Bruce into the cab. As soon as he slammed the door shut, Clark headed for Jenny’s house. “Storm cellar all set, Jenny?” he asked.

“Of course! Just business as usual here.”

“Good girl.” He dodged a pothole. 

Bruce observed the behavior of the Kansans with interest. Tornadoes were rare in Gotham. You occasionally got small twisters or microburst in the countryside, not the city. The last time a major tornado had wreaked havoc in the city had been 1953, well before his time.

Hurricanes were more common. Again, the biggest one had been generations ago, occurring in 1938, but there had been more recent ones in 1985 and 1991. Living by the sea, he often saw stormy weather.

Kansans lived with frequent major tornadoes every year. He knew that Clark kept an eye on his native state and broke up quite a few of them, but he was not always available.

_Looks like the people of Kansas can take care of themselves._

Clark drove up to the Mallow house, Cora Mallow coming out onto the porch, wisps of brown hair escaping her bun. “Thanks for bringing her home, Clark.”

“You bet, Mrs. Mallow.”

Cora herded Jenny inside and Clark drove off with a wave.

“So, are you going to break up the twister now or later?” Bruce asked.

“There is no twister.” At Bruce’s raised eyebrow, Clark explained, “It’s a little weird, but sometimes tornadoes can be slow-forming. I’ll keep an eye on developments. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to prepare, anyway.”

Once they reached home Clark drove the truck into the barn, Chloe’s Corvette already there. Bruce helped secure the window in the loft.

“Why are you going through all these preparations when you won’t need them?” 

“I might. If I’m called away on an emergency, the farm would be vulnerable. If the tornado was already raging I’d take care of it, no preparations necessary.” Clark grinned. “Besides, since when does the Master of Preparation object to being ready just in case?”

“Well, you _are_ a Big Blue Boy Scout.”

Clark laughed. He and Bruce went into the house where Chloe was securing the windows. Clark explained that the tornado had not formed yet, but it was only a matter of time. As he talked, he took out candles and flashlights, putting some in the kitchen and the rest in the living room. Chloe took out the Monopoly board and Clark started a fire in the fireplace. The wind rattled the shutters as the soft glow of the lamp shone down on the board.

& & & & & &

In Metropolis the sky was gray with the promise of rain and Lex notified his Security Chief. “I’m going to Smallville.” 


	14. In The Eye Of The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce arrive at the ruins.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_1_zps78f8f99f.jpg.html)

  
_“In the eye of the storm,_  
 _All is calm.”_

  


**Billie Hollis**  
 **“Stormy Weather”**  
 **Decca Records**  
 **1934 C.E.**

The wind swept down across the fields and prairies, leaves dancing wildly as they were stripped from the trees and dark clouds roiled on the horizon. The people of Smallville closed their shutters and doors and the hair on the backs of their necks prickled as they heard the whisper, _“He’s coming.”_

In the Kent farmhouse, the world’s most famous and powerful heroes and the cleverest computer expert played Monopoly, their voices hushed as their skin prickled with anticipation of what, they did not know.

Chloe was soundly beating the World’s Finest while eating pumpkin cookies and sipping mulled cider and Clark rose from the floor, going over to the window and using his X-ray vision to see through the shutters.

“I’m going outside for a minute.”

Chloe and Bruce exchanged a look as Clark went out to the porch. Chloe rolled the dice, counting out the spaces on the board. The Scottish dog token landed on Reading Railroad.

“Pay up,” Bruce said, glancing toward the porch.

Chloe sighed theatrically as she counted out the brightly-colored money. “Capitalist swine.”

Bruce smirked as he took the money and rolled the dice. 

_Fitting metaphor for our lives,_ she thought.

They played a few more turns, Bruce ending up on Park Place. Chloe crowed in triumph, holding out her hand as Bruce reluctantly counted out the money.

“I’m cleaned out,” he complained.

“Hey, _you’re_ supposed to be the captain of industry.”

Bruce grimaced and stood stiffly. “I’m going outside.”

Chloe’s cell phone rang. “Hey, A.C. What’s up? Sure, I can do a search for you. Let me get my laptop.”

& & & & & &

Bruce hobbled out to the front porch. Clark was staring out at the horizon, the sky a greenish tint as dark clouds roiled high above the fields and woods.

“It’s centered over the Castle,” Clark said quietly.

Bruce looked out at the horizon and sighed. “I’m not surprised.”

“He’s coming.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I’ll have to investigate.”

Bruce gripped his lover’s arm. “Not without me.”

Clark nodded. “We’d better prepare.”

Bruce grinned. “You bet, Boy Scout.”

Clark smiled and kissed him, ushering Bruce inside.

Chloe was sitting at the dining room table as she talked to A.C. and worked the computer. Bruce went upstairs while Clark said to Chloe, “We’re going to investigate the weather. The epicenter seems to be the Castle.”

Chloe nodded. “Good luck. Keep in touch.”

Clark met Bruce at the foot of the stairs. “Ready?”

Bruce nodded. “Let’s go.”

Bruce and Clark got into the rental car, their commlinks on and Bruce clutching a bag of weaponry. Clark had left the top button of his flannel shirt undone, the blue shirt underneath peeking out against tanned skin. Bruce felt a thrill of excitement. They were back in the saddle again! 

The journey to the Luthor estate was silent, Clark keeping his eyes focused on the increasingly-tumultuous storm clouds roiling over the remains of Castle Luthor.

Bruce ignored the nagging pain in his wrist, leg and ankle. He was hampered but not helpless. He also felt happy and proud that Clark had not objected to his coming along despite not being one hundred percent. He was no wounded flower. He was the Batman, damnit!

The clouds grew more ominous the closer they came to the estate, the wind rattling the windows of the car. It grew so strong that Clark had to exert his strength to keep the car on the road. He parked on the edge of the estate and they alighted from the car.

“This looks like a job for Superman!” Clark shouted over the wind.

Bruce grinned. Dressed in commando black, he pulled a knit cap over his hair. Without his Bat-costume, he had to improvise. He had a black domino mask in his jacket pocket, the leather creaking as he moved.

“And for Batman!” Clark laughed and Bruce said, “Go!”

Clark nodded, a blur of motion nearly knocking Bruce off his feet as farmboy turned into the World’s Greatest Hero in dazzling red-yellow-and-blue. No matter how many times he saw the transformation, it took his breath away.

_All that power restrained by compassion. Damn, what a turn-on!_

Clark walked toward the ruins, cape swirling out majestically behind him.

& & & & & &

Superman was calm as he approached the ruins. He had the best partner in the world backing him up in the shadows and another great partner back at the house. He had walked into far more dangerous situations with less support.

Excitement coursed through his veins. It had been a long time since he had done the superhero thing, and his blood was ready.

He bypassed the front door, walking through the hole in the wall instead. He traversed the foyer and headed unerringly for the library. It was the heart of the house, and had once held his heart. 

Superman entered the library, muted rainbow light streaming in through the stained-glass window as it pierced the gloom. He stood in the center of the ruins.

A slender figure dressed in black emerged from the shadows. A smile that chilled Superman’s blood stretched the once-beloved face.

“Lex,” he whispered.

“Not quite.” Lex stopped several feet away. “Welcome, Kal-El.” The gray-blue eyes hardened. “Kneel before Zod!”


	15. Once Upon A Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old hopes flare as Clark and Bruce confront Zod.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_4_zps7c8babd3.jpg.html)

  
_Once upon a time,_  
 _I knew a man_  
 _Who was my heart._

_I miss him._  


  


**Dana Clark**  
 **“Long Ago And Far Away”**  
 **1963 C.E.**

Bruce cursed silently in the shadows. He carefully watched Zod as he made his grand pronouncement. Obviously he had taken Lex over again.

_Oh, Lex. It’s never easy for you, is it?_

He could not afford to let his feelings for Lex color his reactions. Besides, the Lex he had known years ago was long gone. Now he was the enemy, especially when it came to Clark.

Unfortunately, Clark was always conflicted when he faced Lex. He always hoped for some of the old Lex to return, but he didn’t even remember Clark. 

_Clark’s vulnerable to Lex. Zod’s clever, taking over his body again._

Bruce was not sure if Zod already knew he was here. If the general could hear his heartbeat, it was all over as far as being Superman’s secret back-up but Bruce went into full Batman mode, anyway.

“I kneel to no man, Zod,” said Superman. Batman had to admire the haughty tone.

“Such arrogance, Kal-El.” Zod smiled using Lex’s face. It was disconcerting, to say the least. “You of the House of El always possessed that trait.”

“Then I proudly carry on the family tradition.” Batman watched his friend assume the classic ‘Superman pose’: fists on hips, chin up, chest out. It was surprisingly effective on most people.

_Probably not so much on Zod._

Zod seemed more amused than impressed. He was clad in black pants, shirt, and boots, and wore a long, black coat that resembled the one that Clark had worn as the Blur.

Batman wanted to wipe that smug look off Zod’s face. The Kryptonian considered himself superior to humans but he was no different from the tyrants of human history, and that gave the good guys an edge, slim as it might be. Megalomaniacs always had a fatal flaw. You just had to be very good in finding it.

He remained in the shadows high above the library. Despite his pain he had made the climb up here to the remaining rafters because he wanted the vantage point.

Zod smirked at Superman. “You never learn, Kal-El. Your arrogance will be your undoing.”

“I could say the same.”

“Ah, but I have a good reason to be supremely confident. I am Zod…”

“…Czar of all the Russias!”

“Hmm, I am not familiar with that reference, but I like the sound of it.” 

Superman cocked his head. “Why are you here, Zod? World conquest again? Been there, done that. How’d you escape the Phantom Zone, anyway?”

“Now why would I tell you that?” Amusement laced the suave voice.

“Well, you probably don’t expect to go back there, so tell me how you did it.”

Zod laughed, not a pleasant sound, Batman thought with a chill. He gripped his batarang tighter.

“You are amusing, Kal-El. You have your father’s sense of humor. Ah, those were good times, your father and I. The best of friends.”

Batman tensed. Superman’s vulnerability was always his emotions. He had experienced a rocky relationship with the A.I., which had been imprinted with Jor-El’s personality. Luckily, Clark had met the real Jor-El, who was nothing like the capricious, sometimes cruel A.I. Batman had always suspected that the A.I.’s programming had been defective, either from bugs or damage during the rocketship’s crash to Earth. The A.I. had been designed to reflect Jor-El’s personality, yet was nothing like the real Jor-El, for which he was grateful. Why saddle Clark with a rotten father like Lex had suffered? At least Clark could be proud of his biological father, just as he had been proud of his adoptive dad.

“Well, somehow that went awry,” said Superman.

”Just like you and Lex, huh?”

Batman flexed his hand. This was getting into dangerous territory. 

_Stay focused, Clark. Don’t let him get to you._

& & & & & &

Superman did not allow his uneasiness to show to Zod. Men like the general were uncannily expert at sniffing out weakness. No, he would keep his expression neutral and verbally spar instead. He had certainly learned the art from both Lex and Bruce.

“My friendship with Lex Luthor is long over,” Superman said coolly. “He doesn’t even remember me.”

“Are you sure about that, Clark?”

Superman felt a shiver down his spine. That was Zod talking not Lex. Stay focused. He could hear Batman’s heartbeat high up in the rafters. His fellow hero and lover was his anchor.

“Of course I’m sure. His half-sister Tess made sure that Lex remembers nothing about Smallville.” 

“She thought she did.”

Superman smiled even as his heart pounded. “Lex’s memories were erased, just enough to wipe out certain time periods of his life, though obviously he was left with enough memory to function.”

“Oh, Clark, you never could see what was beneath layers of deceit, now could you?”

Superman was unsettled. The inflection was more Lex than Zod.

“Lex is all about deceit, just like you, Zod.”

Zod’s smile was predatory. “Interesting how you often refer to him as ‘Lex’ instead of ‘Luthor’.”

_Now **that** is Zod!_

Superman kept his senses on high alert. Zod was extremely intelligent and played dirty like all villains.

“Going for shading and nuance, Zod?”

Zod smirked. “It’s all about the shades of gray, Kal-El.”

“No doubt.” Superman was not as fond of verbal sparring as Lex and Bruce were. He much preferred the direct approach, but super-villains were terribly fond of verbiage. “But let’s get down to brass tacks, Zod. You’re here to cause trouble. I’m here to stop you.”

Zod laughed. “So much for nuances, eh, Clark?” 

Superman frowned. He knew that Zod knew his secret identity but the disliked the general’s use of his Earth name because it was his name, far more than Kal-El ever could be. It was nothing against his family name. It was just the way his life had gone, growing up as Clark Kent instead of as Kal-El. 

“Well, you’re right about that, Clark. You’d better stop Zod, otherwise he’ll take over the world.”

Suuperman’s frown turned into a scowl. “You can stop the games, Zod. Stick to your own personality, such as it is.”

Zod smiled. “Really, Clark? You can’t recognize me?”

Superman kept his pose, projecting power and confidence, though he was really feeling off-balance.

“It really _is_ me, Clark.”

“Lex doesn’t remember me.”

The other man smiled. It was not an arrogant Luthor smirk, but a gently fond Lex smile from their early days together.

Or am I imagining it? Wish fulfillment?

“You can stop the act, Zod.”

“I’m hurt, Clark.” Now that was Luthor arrogance. “You really don’t recognize me?” 

“You act like Luthor, but he doesn’t remember me.”

“And that really upsets you, doesn’t it?” Again that gentle Lex tone.

Suddenly angry, Superman growled, “It’s better that he doesn’t remember me.”

“Yes, it probably is, considering.”

“Considering what?” Superman snapped.

“Considering that dealing with me is always difficult for you.”

“Difficult?” Superman laughed. “You’re _so_ predictable.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” 

“I will.” Superman stepped forward. “You should know by now, Zod, that I’ll never allow this planet to be taken over to be re-formed into New Krypton or whatever latest scheme you have cooked up.” 

“I know, Clark. A part of me has always known.”

Annoyed at Zod still playing games, Superman started to reach for the general when Zod asked, “Why do you think that I never tried to kill you, Clark? Or that I let you play mousy, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper when I could have exposed you to the world or killed you while you slept in the bedroom at the farm?” 

Superman began to snap at Zod to stop his games but looked into the eyes of the man standing before him. “Lex?” he whispered.

Lex smiled. “That’s right, Clark.”

“You _do_ remember me.”

“Of course I do.” Lex’s smile was warm and inviting, just as Clark remembered.

“No, you might be Lex,” he said, taking a step back, “But why should I trust you? You’ve become just what you said you never wanted to be: your father.”

“Haven’t you always wondered why, Clark? Why did I turn to the Dark Side, so to speak?”

“Of course I wondered! I’ve wondered every day for years.”

“And yet the answer is so simple.” At Superman’s frown, Lex said gently, “Have you forgotten that I’m a meteor mutant?”

“No, of course not.”

“And what usually happens to meteor mutants?”

“They develop a psychosis…” Superman’s eyes widened. “You developed it.”

Lex nodded. “When Zod took me over the first time, he triggered the latent psychosis in me. My meteor power, fast healing, prevented the psychosis from kicking in before that. But unfortunately, Zod’s madness triggered my own.” He cocked his head. “Interesting that his second possession has pushed it away, at least temporarily.”

Hope flared in Clark’s chest. “Hold on, Lex, stay with me.” He grabbed Lex’s arm. “Fight the darkness, Lex!”

Lex looked at Superman, seeing Clark, and was about to speak when Clark’s heart sank as he saw the glint of madness return to gray-blue eyes.

“Come out, Bruce! Stop skulking in the shadows and show yourself.” The darkness rippled as Lex laughed. “Of course I know who the Batman is. I’ve known almost since the beginning.”

Batman emerged from the shadows. “But you never told anyone.”

“Of course not.” 

Batman stalked forward. Even without the cape, he was working the theatrics. If the situation wasn’t so dire, Clark would have laughed.

“He’s going to take over the world. My fear of invasion will finally come true.”

“Is that why you’ve hated Clark for being an alien?” Batman ground out, dropping all pretenses.

“Partly.”

“And the other part?” Clark asked. He was no longer Superman, just Clark in a brightly-colored costume. His gaze was focused firmly on Lex.

“The other part was resentment, I suppose. Resentment at your suspicions and attitude that drove us apart.”

“That isn’t fair,” Batman growled. “You snooped into his life, jeopardizing him and his parents. You know what would’ve happened to him if the Government or your father had taken him? A lab rat’s life would have been merciful!”

“You can take the mask off, Bruce. There are no secrets here.” Lex looked at him meaningfully. “Or are there?” 

Batman removed his domino mask. Clark said, “All right, Lex, what are you insinuating?”

“Bruce and I go way back. Right, Bruce?”

“I know that you were friends”

Bruce said quietly, “We slept together.”

Startled, Clark looked at his lover. “Bruce?”

“It’s true, Clark. I slept with Lex back in college. Several times.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I knew you had been in love with Lex. I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“It’s all right, Bruce. I know we all have our pasts.”

Bruce’s shoulder relaxed infinitesimally, but it was enough to assure Clark that Bruce wasn’t beating himself up over something that wasn’t important. Bruce had known Lex before Clark, long before Clark ever fell in love with a charming, enticing billionaire.

_Or at least my first one._

“So what now, Lex?” Bruce asked. “Zod knows everything. We can’t hide anything from him, but we can learn from you. What’s his plan?”

Clark saw the change in Lex’s eyes even before Bruce had finished speaking. “Get down, Bruce!”

Zod brought out a gun at super-speed, Clark stepping in front of Bruce just as Zod discharged the weapon and the world exploded in green fire.


	16. Force Of Nature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Clark and Bruce defeat Zod?

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_1_zps78f8f99f.jpg.html)

  
_In Kansas,_   
_The gale_   
_Is all,_   
_O’er field_   
_And bale._   


  


**Sarah Jean Swenson**  
 **“Tales Of Kansas”**  
 **1876 C.E.**

It was incandescent heat, the world gone white, then green. Pain ripped through Clark and he screamed.

& & & & & &

Bruce felt himself thrown back with the force of the explosion. He was slammed against the desk, gritting his teeth as the corner gouged his back. He could see brilliant white light even with his eyes tightly closed, startled and terrified when it turned green. Clark’s scream pierced his heart.

He opened his eyes, trying to see what was going on, but the lingering light was still too bright. He could barely make out Clark’s prone figure in the center of the ruins.

Bruce struggled to his feet, staggering over to Clark. He dropped to his knees beside his lover, the rubble all around them as they were bathed in the rainbow light from the stained-glass window.

Clark was lying on his side, his costume dirty and torn, his cape in tatters. Blood ran down from a cut on his temple, smearing his costume.

Bruce gently cradled him and looked down worriedly at Clark, whose pain-filled gaze was directed toward Zod as the green glow shimmered around him.

“You know what having a human body means, Kal-El? That you needn’t worry about Kryptonite. Convenient, isn’t it?”

Bruce glared at Zod. He and Clark were in deep trouble.

“Ah, the patented Bat-glare. I’m privileged to see it.”

Bruce wanted to say that Zod would see more than just a glare, but he had learned that silence could sometimes be better than words.

Zod’s smile was still unpleasant. He caressed the gun, which looked like something out of _Star Trek_. It was more like a phaser rifle than any Earth-style shotgun or rifle. How he had managed to craft a weapon like that in the Phantom Zone was a question, though the answer could simply be that he had escaped and then found or made the weapon.

_Still questions, but right now we’ve got bigger worries._

“So what’s your plan, Zod? Take over Smallville and then spread your tentacles out?”

“Oh, Batman, you _are_ a conversationalist, aren’t you? Let’s get down to brass tacks as the saying goes?”

Bruce could hear Clark’s struggle to breath but focused on Zod. Emotions could cloud the clear thinking he needed against a wily villain like Zod.

“All right, Zod, let’s get down to brass tacks. Do you think that your world conquest is going to be easy? There are more heroes out there than just Clark and me. If you know anything about humans, you know that we just don’t roll over for the first dictator that comes along.”

“Really?” Amusement glittered in Zod’s eyes. “Your people have done just that. From Genghis Khan to Hitler to Stalin and down to Pol Pot, you line up and say ‘Sieg Heil!’ and glory in what the tyrants give you.”

“And there are always people who oppose them.”

“Lex.”

The whisper startled both Bruce and Zod and they looked down at Clark.

Clark’s eyes were pain-glazed but looking directly at Zod. “I know you’re in there, Lex. _Fight!_ The man I knew would fight and claw his way to survival. You had strength of character, Lex, and enthralled a sheltered farmboy with your wit and sophistication.” 

Something glinted in Zod’s eyes. At first Bruce thought it was derision, but for a second he was sure he saw the man he had known in college.

“Lex, come back to us.” This time Bruce was the one to plead. Lex had been his friend, too.

 _“Please_ , Lex,” Clark said.

Zod frowned. “Your little tricks won’t work, Kal-El. Luthor may be a formidable intellect on your planet, but he’s like a gnat to me.”

“If that’s so, why are you so perturbed, Zod?” asked Bruce.

“I’m _not_ perturbed!”

“Really?” Bruce stood, putting himself between Zod and Clark as he faced the general. “Then why are you so nervous?”

Zod aimed the gun at Clark. “Back off, Wayne.”

Bruce reluctantly complied, but he kept himself between Zod and Clark. That green glow was still radiating outward, causing Clark pain.

“Now it’s time for me to begin my campaign.” Zod preened with confidence, his body straight and tall as he assumed the prospective mantle of emperor. “First the people of Smallville will know my benevolent rule, and then the world!”

“All you need is a mustache to twirl, Snidely.”

Zod’s retort was cut off as his eyes sparked and Lex said, “Now, Bruce! The gun!”

Bruce leaped forward, adrenaline propelling him despite his injuries as he grabbed the gun, struggling with Zod. Behind him, Clark crawled on the ground as he tried to reach them. Something clattered to the ground and Lex’s eyes looked out at Bruce.

“Grab it! It’s the crystal that will send Zod back to the Phantom Zone!”

Bruce started to reach down for the crystal but Zod roared and shoved Bruce back, causing him to lose his balance. His injuries made him unable to regain it and he crashed into the rubble.

Zod lunged for the crystal but Clark reached it first. Closing his fist around it, he rolled away but Zod grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

Clark looked up. “Help me, Lex.”

“Lex isn’t here,” snarled Zod.

“You’re wrong.” Clark grabbed the lapel of Zod’s coat as the Kryptonian leaned down. “I know you’re in there, Lex. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you before but I’ll help you now. Help me defeat Zod!”

Zod smiled a cruel smile as he suddenly brought his boot down on Clark’s hand, Clark crying out. He still held the crystal but Zod grabbed the gun and aimed it at his nemesis.

Clark screamed as the beam of green light hit him squarely in the chest. He writhed as the setting was ratcheted up to its full intensity as Zod’s eyes burned with zealous fire.

Bruce sent a volley of batarangs toward Zod, who batted them away. Bruce took a coil of rope from the back of his belt and looped it over Zod’s wrist and yanked. 

Zod snarled at Bruce, ready to attack him when he began to shake violently. He grabbed his head as he doubled over, wind blowing up from every corner of the ruins.

Bruce struggled against the gale force, picking up the gun and making his way to Clark, gathering his lover up into his arms. Clark was gasping, his muscles shuddering from the aftereffects of the Green Kryptonite as his tattered cape whipped around. Zod’s shuddering grew more intense as he howled to match the wind.

“We’re here, Lex” Clark called, his voice week but Lex heard it despite the roar of the gale. Lex fell to his knees and stared at Clark. “Clark,” he whispered, reaching out a hand before he gave one final shudder and collapsed.

“Lex!”

“The crystal!” Bruce cried. 

Clark aimed it at Lex’s body, the light pulsing and then shooting out to lift his body like a rag doll, screams spilling out to meld with the howl of the wind.

The shrieking pierced through Bruce’s skull as Zod was driven out of Lex’s body, the crystal sucking him inside and floating off into endless space. Lex’s body crumpled to the ground.

“Lex?” Bruce asked, worry lacing every word. He turned the other man over, gently tapping his cheek. “Lex?” 

Clark was too exhausted to move, but he watched as Bruce pleaded with Lex to wake up.

Sunlight started to stream in through the broken roof as the dust began to settle, silence draping over them like a shroud.


	17. Look To The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Zod, Clark, Bruce, Chloe and Ollie face a brighter future.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_4_zps7c8babd3.jpg.html)

  
_The past is gone,_   
_But fondly remembered,_   
_The future is before us_   
_Like a shining ribbon_   
_Leading us to_   
_Our lives together._   


  


**Jewel O’Reilly**  
 **“The Once And**  
 **Future Queen”**  
 **1963 C.E.**

Clark gently tucked the afghan around Lex’s legs as the empty eyes stared back at him. Biting his lip, Clark forced a cheerful smile.

“I’ll be back next week, Lex. So will Bruce when he can get away from Gotham. You know him and that city. It’s like me and Smallville. They’re in our blood.” His heart broke at the lack of response, but continued on. “Mom’s going to bake you some apple pie, just the way you like it, dusted on top with cinnamon and with a hint of the same in the filling. Mmm, my mouth’s watering just thinking about it. She better make one for me, too.” Clark’s smile faded and he leaned down, kissing Lex on the temple. “I love you,” he whispered, then turned and left the bedroom. 

Out in the hall, Bruce was waiting for him. Clark smiled a little. “Thanks for letting me have a few minutes alone with him.”

Bruce took his hand and squeezed. “You both needed it.” He studied Clark’s face. “Don’t despair, Clark. The A.I. says it’ll take time, but Lex’s mind will heal. And if he still has the meteor psychosis, there may be a way to cure that, too.”

“Who would’ve thought that his mind would have been burned out by the fight against Zod’s possession?” Clark and Bruce started walking down the hall. “It didn’t happen the last time.”

Sunlight streamed in through the windows as Bruce said, “That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t happen this time.”

“I suppose.” A nurse passed them and smiled as she nodded. “It was soon after Zod’s first possession that Lex really began to act erratically, getting involved with 33.1, obsessing over alien invasions…he must have seen Zod’s plans while possessed. Unfortunately, as he said, the possession triggered his meteor psychosis so he became secretive and paranoid and told no one the reasons that he was so assertive about training an army of meteor mutants.”

They walked through the lobby and emerged out into a gorgeous autumn day. The venerable old maple trees were just starting to turn, other trees like elm and locus already in the full blaze of golden glory. A gust of wind blew the fallen leaves at their feet around in wild swirls.

“Don’t feel guilty, Clark.”

“I can’t help it, Bruce.” Clark looked down at the leaves. “If I had paid better attention instead of letting my fear and anger cloud my thinking…”

Bruce grasped his arm. “Don’t, Clark. We’ve discussed this. You were young and despite your powers, vulnerable. Lex investigated you and that scared you, and with good reason. Things happened. And when Lex comes out of his coma, we’ll help him become whole again.”

Clark raised his head and smiled. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce kissed him. “This is the best private hospital in Greater Metropolis. Emil will keep his eye on Lex. He’ll recover.”

“I love you,” Clark whispered.

“Same here,” Bruce said, twining his fingers with Clark’s. He glanced at his watch. “Hey, my star pupil is going to be doing her routine at the fairgrounds at one o’clock.”

Clark hugged him. “Don’t worry, you’ll make it.”

They disappeared in a whirl of leaves.

& & & & & &

“Over here, guys!”

Clark and Bruce saw Chloe waving from the top of the bleachers. Ollie was smiling next to her.

Clark helped Bruce up to the top bleacher. “What are you doing here?” Bruce asked Ollie. “Is everything all right in Gotham?”

“Just fine ‘n’ dandy. Relax. J’onn’s got the duty. I paid him in Chocos.”

“Ha, ha.” Bruce settled on the end of the bleacher while Clark sat next to Chloe. The crowd was festive, many people waving and smiling at Clark and Bruce, and the smell of sizzling sausages, fried dough, and popcorn wafted from the booths on the midway. “So, no problems?”

Ollie waved his hand airily. “None. I slapped the Penguin and Riddler in the hoosegow and even got an assist from Catwoman.”

“Oh?” Chloe said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, darling.” Ollie put his arm around Chloe’s shoulders and kissed her temple. “No need for jealousy, my dear. You’re the one I’m starting a family with.” 

“A family?” Bruce asked. “Chloe, you’re…?”

“We’re adopting,” Chloe said.

“That’s great!” Bruce leaned over and poked Ollie. “Though you’ll have to train this one to be a father.”

“He’ll be a great father, won’t you, dear?”

“Absolutely, honey.”

Bruce rolled his eyes as the Queens laughed. Ollie said, “C’mon, Clark, let’s get some food before the show.”

Clark and Ollie scrambled down the bleachers, Chloe calling after them, “I want a sausage! And a bag of peanuts!”

“Yes, my love!”

Chloe grinned as Ollie and Clark headed for the booths. She looked at Bruce. “How’s Lex?”

Bruce sighed. “The same. I hope the A.I.’s right.” 

“About this? I think so. Lex is pretty strong. And if his psychosis can be cured, we’ll have ourselves a good man.” She saw something flicker in Bruce’s eyes. “Bruce, you aren’t worried about Clark’s feelings for Lex?” She laughed at his startlement. “What, you think I can’t read you like a book?” Her tone softened. “Clark loves you, Bruce.”

”He still loves Lex.”

She nodded. “And if he and Lex had never broken up, they might be the world’s most famous power couple today. But that wasn’t in the stars.” She squeezed his hand. “You were.”

Bruce smiled almost shyly. “Yeah.” He squeezed her hand back. “That really is great about the adoption, Chloe.”

Chloe smiled. “Thanks. Ollie and I felt it was the right time to start a family. He lost his parents when he was just a child, and my mom had to go away when I was a kid. I had a good childhood with my dad, though, and I want to recreate that with Ollie. He wants the same, remembering the happy times before his parents died.”

Bruce looked out over the midway, his face shadowed, and he located Clark and Ollie at the sausage stand. “Ollie will make a good father,” he said softly. He turned to Chloe. “You’ll be a fantastic mother.”

Chloe smiled.

Clark and Ollie returned with food and drinks, Chloe delighted with her sausage and peanuts while Ollie and Clark both had fried dough and pizza slices. Bruce stuck with pizza, enjoying the rich tomato, cheese, and onion flavors. All food bad for you, but Bruce wanted to let loose for once. 

He drank his Coke and watched as Jenny arrived and bowed to applause, wearing a sequined green leotard with yellow and red accents. She wore a yellow feather in her hair and climbed up the pole, grasping the trapeze bar. She saw Bruce and winked at him.

Bruce applauded as Jenny sparkled like a star.

& & & & & &

As Chloe and Ollie walked ahead of them as they left the fairgrounds, Clark slipped his hand into Bruce’s.

“You did a good job tutoring Jenny, impresario.”

Bruce laughed. “She’s a talented kid.” 

Clark pulled two tickets out of his jacket pocket and handed them to Bruce.

“What are these?”

“Tickets to the circus.”

“What?”

“Haly’s Circus is coming to Gotham next spring. The Flying Graysons are the star attraction.”

Bruce took the tickets with delight. “I’ve always wanted to see them in person.” He hugged Clark, giving him a kiss. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Clark and Bruce hurried to catch up with Chloe and Ollie as they left the fairgrounds and headed for home.

[ ](http://s578.photobucket.com/user/ctbn60/media/Brady_Girl_12/Break_2_zpsdd8a5989.jpg.html)


End file.
